


Comfortably numb

by Vale11



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Because yes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, References to Drugs, juice needs a hug, post season seven, references to non-con/abuse/rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vale11/pseuds/Vale11
Summary: Juice gets out of jail with a new baggage of scars and memories that he doesn't want to share, really doesn't want to. Even if they threaten to destroy him.He just doesn't want to talk about it.Even with Chibs.(sorry for any eventual mistake, i'm Italian)NOW COMPLETE!





	1. 1

When Juice gets out finding there Chibs waiting for him is the last thing he expects, but there he is, back against his bike, his own Dyna next to him, a new prospect driving the van.  
He tries to make a beeline for the bus stop, tries to get away from them, but Chibs is faster and intercepts him just as the bus leaves: he feels a rough hand on his neck and freezes with memories of other hands and other situations, half expects Chibs to throw him down on the concrete and beat the hell out of him, and thinks haven’t you taken enough from me already?  
But Chibs’hand doesn’t beat him: it just sits on his neck, arm moving on his shoulders, lips on his scalp and voice rough as it says:  
“Let’s go home, lad”  
And he doesn’t know what to think, because he doesn’t have a home anymore, does he? And this closeness scares him, and he starts to shake, and wants to run like hell away from there, and Chibs must feel it because all of a sudden his neck is free and there are hands on his shoulders, going up and down his arms, and the man is asking what’s wrong  
What’s wrong, Juicy boy?  
but all he can manage is a broken, desperate:  
“Don’t touch me”  
Not you, too.  
“Please” He adds for good measure: he doesn’t know what Chibs is doing there and he doesn’t dare make a move, barely looking down at his booted feet, balancing his belongings on one shoulder. Chibs hands leave his arms and he’s grateful for the small reprise: doesn’t even realize that he’s totally hunched on himself, like an old man waiting for something bad to happen.

Chibs lest his hands fall from Juice’s arms, but lets them hoover, not really touching but close enough to catch him should he fall: the lad looks like shit, unstable and scared, and he wants to know why, what happened, but he’s afraid to ask. that’s not the right moment, he knows. He opts for using his voice, instead.  
“You ok to ride, Juice?”  
The look in Juice’s eyes is unbelievable. He looks at him as if he’s gone crazy.

Juice has to control himself: he would love to ride his baby again, possibly away from Chibs and Charming and what the fuck, but Tully organized a goodbye party just the night before, and he’s not even sure how he managed to stand until now, let alone walk without crying, so he shakes his head no and looks at Chibs as he screams something to the prospect, the loud voice making him jump. The kid scrambles to his bike and starts loading her in the van, and he follows his movement as Chibs studies him, hands close to his body without touching, eyes worried.  
“Wanna get home in the van or ride bitch, lad?”  
And that’s when Chibs understands that there is something deeply wrong with him.  
Juice knows what “riding bitch” means in the outside world, but in there it meant something else entirely: he’s been a ridden bitch for two years and the word does a strange effect on him, tumbling effortlessly from Chibs’ mouth: he feels his breath quicken, stumbles, falls flat on his ass and hisses, trying to hide the pain, and then he hears his own voice pleading:  
“No, please. No. I can take the bus, I’ll wait for the next ride. You don’t have to do this, please”  
It takes all the willpower of the goddamned world for Chibs not to take Juice in his arms and hold him as his life would depend on that, but he doesn’t want to be touched, and hissed when he fell, and reacted like that and Holy Mary Mother of fuck, the pieces are starting to form an horrifying image in Chibs’ head, one he wants to delete right away but can’t, not with Juice crumbling down like that, shaking and mumbling and with eyes close so tightly that he’s sure he’ll have one hell of headache later. So, he does the unthinkable.  
“Johnny boy - he calls the prospect, crouching down at Juice’s level - you’ll drive my bike to my place. If I find even the smallest scratch on her, you’re dead. Ok?”  
The kid nods, scrambles away again. Good soldier, Chibs thinks. Just like Juice was.  
And now, the tricky part.  
Chibs touches Juice’s boot, hoping it’s safe, and Juice recoils.  
Shit, shit, shit. Now what?  
“Juice, it’s alright - he tries - can you hear me, Juice?”  
Juice nods. It’s small and uncertain, but it’s there.  
“It’s alright, Juice. I’ll get you to my place. You can take a shower, sleep a bit, eat something, change your clothes, watch a movie - he’s rambling, and he knows it, but Juice seems to react positively to his voice so he keeps on - I got all your books stacked there, you can read some. Rest for a while. What do you think?”  
It’s been a while since someone asked for his opinion: two long, dehumanizing years, so juice doesn’t really know how to answer. He just nods, and sees Chibs’ mouth stretch into a smile.  
“Good, Juicy. Can you stand?”  
Juice pushes on his hands, stands up and stumbles, but thankfully Chibs doesn’t touch him. His hands are ready to catch him, but there’s no need: Juice gets back his footing and reaches for the van, lets Chibs open the door and climbs inside swaying a bit. Chibs looks at Johnny and nods, sending him home with his bike.  
Watching Juice settle on the van ain’t easy: he looks in pain, and Chibs doesn’t know how to help. He’s never been really good at comforting, he’s more of an “Hey, get a beer and let some bitch suck your dick” king of guy, but it doesn’t look like the case, now. Juice looks too frail for that. Hell, Juice looks too frail for every fucking thing, and all Chibs can do is start the engine and watch him close his eyes and breathe as he forces the van to hit the road. The thing is old and creaky and in need of a good check up.  
“This thing is gonna explode, Chibs”  
It’s Juice’s voice and it ain’t: it’s rough, and sad and laced with uncertainty. He sounds as tired as he looks.  
“You could take a look at it, you’ve always been good with cars”  
Juice just shrugs, opens his eyes and starts looking at the blurred landscape outside the window.  
“If you're here to finish the job you should do it right now. Procrastinating ain’t like you”  
It takes all of Chibs’ will power, again, not to stomp on the brakes.  
“The fuck are you talking about?”  
Juice turns around, quirks an eyebrow.  
“You kidding, right?”  
“No Juice - Chibs growls - I ain’t”  
“Yeah, sure - Juice whispers - whatever”  
Chibs tries to let it go, thinking that he’ll have time to discover the fuck Juice is talking about, but can’t really help it.  
“Juicy boy, I’m being honest here - he sounds puzzled. Hell, he is puzzled - i don’t follow. What are you talking about?”  
Juice snorts.  
“You're not here to kill me?”  
“What?!”  
Chibs really hits the brakes, and Juice would have flown from his seat if not for the seatbelt. As it is, he hisses: his wounds don’t really like the treatment, thank you very much. And then the van is swerving and coming to an halt in the middle of the thankfully empty road, and Chibs is screaming, flushed red and furious.  
“Kill you, boy? Why on Earth would I want to kill you?”  
Juice’s back is pressed against the van’s door, eyes huge, torn between fear and anger.  
“Why don’t you ask your prez? - he hisses - why don’t you ask Jax? I mean - he goes on, voice softening - I don’t blame him, but I thought you would know”  
“I can’t speak with the dead, boy!”  
Chibs answers, angry and hurt, and Juice finally takes note of the new patch on his cut. He’s got big eyes, brown and dark, but man, now they’re fucking huge.  
“Shit man - he mutters, hands flying to cover his face - I’m sorry”  
The silence doesn’t last, though: one of Chibs’ hands fastens on the collar of his shirt and he’s shaken out of his thoughts by a very pissed scotsman. He’s scared. Really. The closeness and the feeling of hands on his body make him jump and he hears more then feels his white t-shirt ripping while his head collides with the van’s window.  
Silence, then. He opens his eyes, breath speeding up, and looks at Chibs.  
“What the fuck, Juice?”  
There on Juice’s neck, are finger shaped bruises and three new scars. Small, deep and, for what Chibs knows about human anatomy, nearly fatal. The killer missed, one of them didn’t pierce the vein but slid on the bone, he can see the white, jagged line on Juice’s skin. He touches the marks and Juice goes in defense mode: hands up, head down, breath itching and eyes closed shut.  
“Don’t touch me, Chibs - he croaks - please”  
Well, if this doesn’t call for a long chat, Chibs doesn’t know what does.


	2. Bosco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Juicy, look at me - Chibs’ voice is serious, so Juice lifts his eyes to meet the scotsman’s gaze - I will always ask you for permission, you hear me? Always. And, by the way, this is you room so I actually have to ask for it”  
> His room? Now, that feels good.  
> “You mean this is some long term accommodation?”  
> “This is some as long as you need it accommodation”

Victims we are not of happenstance, but you're a victim all the same.  
Stuck inside a circumstance with your confusion and your blame.

Placebo - bosco

Chibs parks in front of his home, Johnny already there with his bike: his baby looks fine, so he asks the prospect if he wants a beer, sticking out his head from the van’s window. When Johnny nods he smiles, throws him the keys and lets him open the door.  
“Leave it open!”  
He screams, taking note of Juice’s flinch, and watches as Johnny disappears inside, opening the curtains of his little kitchen to avoid having to find the fridge in the darkness.  
Now, time to take care of juice.  
The lad is still sitting in the van, unmoving, eyes dazed and left knee bouncing with nervous energy.  
“We’re here, Juicy boy - he says - feel like coming in?”  
Juice shrugs and starts moving to get out of the van, Chibs jumps down and waits for him, trying not to make him feel cornered. It’s just that his protective instincts are kicking in, and it’s hard to keep them a bay in a situation like that:Juice is hurt, and scared, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to know what happened to him. He won’t force him, though. He doesn’t think he can: the boy looks in pain van as he’s trying to take the few steps that’ll get him inside, and watching him squirm on his seat has been torture for him, he can’t imagine how Juice must have felt.  
“Wanna sit?”  
Johnny is waiting for them inside, three uncapped beers at the ready as he gestures towards the couch. Chibs takes one bottle and sits, motioning for the two younger men to do the same. Johnny smiles and complies, Juice just stands in front of them avoiding their gazes, torturing his bottom lip with his teeth and the bottle’s label with his short nails.  
“Uh - he stammers - do you…Chibs, do you mind if I get some sleep? I mean, if I can…”  
“Sure, Juicy - Chibs forces a happy note in his voice that sounds fake even to himself - wanna take a shower, first? I got some fresh clothes for you if you want”  
Juice’s nod is tiny, he puts the beer on the table and drowns his hands in his pockets, head lowering.  
“Yeah - he clears his throat - thank you”  
“It’s ok, lad - Chibs pats Johnny’s knee as he gets up - you know the way right? Wait for me in the bathroom, I’ll go and get you some sweats and a clean shirt. Sounds fine?”  
Juice almost smiles and nods again, then follows the scotsman down the corridor and gets in the bathroom. The shower stall is small, but it suits him just fine: it makes him feel safer. He’s had too many bad days in open showers to not appreciate the safety offered by a small, closed one.  
He’s just taken off his t-shirt when Chibs knocks and enters to give him his clothes, he smiles accepting them, and freezes when Chibs lets his eyes roam on his body.  
“You alright, Juicy? - he asks, eyes wide - you sure?”  
He knows why he’s asking: he’s a canvas of blues and yellows and sees Chibs eyes bulge out when they meet the new scars carved in his belly, chest and back.  
“What the hell, kid?”  
Juice’s smile falters, but he forces it back.  
“It’s nothing, Chibs - he says, disappearing in the showers and throwing out his jeans - I’m fine”  
Like hell you are, Chibs thinks, but doesn’t dare open his mouth.  
“Do you mind if I leave the door unlocked?”  
He asks instead.  
Juice puts his head against the tiles, enjoying the warm water cascading on his back. Groans. The question scares him, but he reminds himself that he’s safe with Chibs, that he’s not in there, that Tully is not waiting for him in his cell and lets out a breath.  
“Sure, Chibs. Go ahead”  
“I’ll be next door - he says. He doesn’t want to leave. Doesn’t like the idea of leaving him alone - call me if you need something”  
“Ok - juice’s voice is drowned by the water - sure”

When Chibs gets back, Johnny hands him his beer and watches him gulp it down.  
“Everything alright?” He asks.  
He still doesn’t rally know when it’s ok to speak and when it isn’t. The truth is, those guys still scare him a bit. He likes them, a lot, but he still feels unsure around them.  
Chibs takes a deep breath and shakes his head, moving his hair behind his ears.  
“I really don’t know, kid - he answers, reaching the fridge and uncapping another beer - I don’t know. I’m not good at this”  
He doesn’t explain what “this” means, and Johnny is wise enough not to ask.  
“Is there something I can do?”  
Chibs shakes his head, his bottle on his lips, looking at the still full beer that Juice left on the table.  
“Go home, Johnny boy - ha orders - unload Juice’s bike, get the van to the club and go home”  
“You sure?”  
“I’m sure, kid. Go.”

The water’s noise stops after ten minutes, and Chibs strains his ears to get even the smallest noise from the bathroom. Nothing. More minutes pass. Still nothing. A big, nice bunch of nothing. Silence.  
“Juice? - he asks, getting up - you alright?”  
When the silence stretches on, Chibs knocks first and opens the door a few seconds later.  
“Juice?”  
The kid is curled on the bathroom floor, has thrown on a clean t-shirt and a fresh pair of boxer, his face is hidden in his hands and his shoulders are shaking. He’s not crying, looks more like full body shivers. Chibs takes a huge, green towel and crouches down in front of him.  
“Juicy, can you hear me? What’s happening, boy?”  
Juice shakes his head and sits with a grimace, hands moving to his knees and a self deprecating smile on his face.  
“It’s nothing, Chibs. I just can’t seem to be able to keep my shit together”  
Chibs nods, throwing the towel around his shoulders and knotting it against his collarbone when he starts shivering again. Juice looks like a weird superhero, now. Captain Towel.  
“Wanna talk about it?”  
The look that that question earns him is priceless.  
“No, Chibs - Juice’s voice is cold as steel - I don’t want to talk about it, now”  
It’s a suggestion, Chibs knows. It’s a “I tried to explain myself to you but you didn’t even try to listen”. This coldness, this control, never belong to juice before: he always wore his heart on his sleeve, now it looks like even said sleeve has been hidden.  
He doesn’t know what to say, and this silence is new to him: theirs has always been an easy relationship, built on trust and friendship, and now that the trust seems gone being in each other’s presence is difficult. Chibs sighs, accepting defeat, and tries to smile.  
“It’s ok, lad. When you’ll feel like talking I’ll be there. This time I swear that I’ll be there. I0m not going anywhere”  
Juice’s eyes look wet, and Chibs is thorn between sadness and anger. At himself, at Juice, at who broke him like that. Juice is torturing his hands, eyes fixing the blue tiles of Chibs’ bathroom, elbows on his knees and that absurd towel still on his shoulders.”  
“I would have given everything to hear this, you know? Fuck I did so many stupid things to make you guys proud. But now… - he shrugs, and the towel moves with his shoulders - I don’t know what I want, Chibs. I don’t know a fucking thing anymore.”  
Juice is shaking again, long limbs cold and knotted, and Chibs’ hands ache for the need to touch him, to reassure him, but he restrains himself. He doesn’t want to scare him.  
“I’m just drifting, Chibs. I’m drifting and breathing and I get up in the morning just because i have to, not because i really want to - his voice breaks, and he bites back a sob - shit, I’ don’t even know why I’m telling you this”  
“It’s ok, Juicy boy. You can tell me everything you want”  
Chibs takes another towel and nods toward Juice’s hair, now long enough to hide his tattoos and still wet. Juice eyes him, weary and still scared, but nods. The feeling of Chibs’ hands toweling his hair is both familiar and comforting, and he start relaxing a bit, sags against the wall.  
“You tired?”  
He hears, and sees Chibs looking at him: he just nods again as the older man gets up to put the towel back on its holder and offers him his help. He surprises himself accepting Chibs’ hand, naked feet nearly slipping on the cold tiles.  
“Let’s get you to bed, lad”  
Chibs guides him to the guest room he always keep free for one of the brothers: Juice doesn’t think of himself as a Son anymore, but a bed is a bed, and a roof is a roof, and Chibs has always been one of his best friends in the life ha had before, so he curls on the mattress and asks no questions.  
“Need something, Juicy? - the scotsman asks, sitting beside him - water? Something to eat?”  
Juice looks at him, feeling like a little kid, and shakes his head.  
“I’m fine Chibs. Thanks”  
“You’re welcome, boy. Do you mind if I…”  
Chibs rises one hand and Juice doesn’t understand at first, but takes a leap of faith and nods. His heart beats like crazy when he sees Chibs getting closer, but he just tucks him in, squeezes his shoulder and kisses his forehead.  
“Do you want me to stay?”  
Juice is amazed by the offer, and moved. He feels his eyes tearing up again, and it’s fucking embarrassing.  
“You don’t have to”  
“What if I want to, kid?”  
There is a smile in Chibs’ voice: he knows that even without looking.  
“This is you replace, you don’t have to ask for permission”  
“Juicy, look at me - Chibs’ voice is serious, so Juice lifts his eyes to meet the scotsman’s gaze - I will always ask you for permission, you hear me? Always. And, by the way, this is you room so I actually have to ask for it”  
His room? Now, that feels good.  
“You mean this is some long term accommodation?”  
“This is some as long as you need it accommodation”  
Juice nods.  
“Stay - he whispers, adverting his eyes - please”  
Chess smiles and gets on the other side of the bed, takes his boots and cut off and puts his glasses on his nose. There is book on the bedside table, and he lies down next to Juice, picking it up.  
“Want me to read you something?”  
“Really? - Juice’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline - what is that? Not poems, right?”  
He sounds scared, Chibs looks at him.  
“Irvine Welsh”  
“Hm. Obviously. Relaxing”  
Chibs just grins, Juice looks pensive before agreeing.  
“If you don’t mind”  
Chibs’ Scottish drawl is good to hear again, and Juice falls asleep listening to him reading about some guy named Skinner that doesn’t seem to be able to fuck his girlfriend.


	3. Acrobat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You. Did. What?”  
> “Uh - Juice looks at him, insecure - I lied to Jax”  
> “No, not that. Before. You tried to off…”  
> “Myself. Twice.”  
> Chibs closes his eyes.  
> “Twice?”

And you can swallow  
Or you can spit  
You can throw it up  
Or choke on it  
And you can dream  
So dream out loud  
You know that your time is coming 'round  
So don't let the bastards grind you down

U2 - Acrobat

 

He wakes up around four in the morning. Things always happened around four in the morning in there, Tully was a fucking routine freak, so his internal clock wakes him up. He jerks up, chocking on air, and looks around wildly. It’s totally dark. It never was totally dark before, so he must have planned something special and he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t, and he feels panic gripping at him and squeeze his lungs, and what’s happening, oh God what’s happening, what if the chinks are coming too, what if…  
“Juice?”  
Chibs’ voice is rough from sleep and bright as a beacon for him to follow in his panicked haze, he reaches for it and finds cotton and cigarette smell. He’s safe, he’s not there, and he breaks the fuck down, gulping in air and heaving and sobbing.  
“Shit, Chibs - he manages between sobs, twisting his hands in Chibs’ shirt - sorry. I’m sorry”  
That’s the last straw for Chibs: Juice’s breakdown is so strong and sudden that he can’t resist and pulls in the boy, gathering him into his arms.  
“Don’t be sorry, lad. It’s alright”  
He tries to calm him down, but Juice’s panic seems never-ending.  
“They’re not coming, right? - He asks - they’re not coming?”  
Chibs presses Juice’s forehead against his chest and inhales. The picture in his head worsened by the plural. He starts massaging Juice’s scalp, kisses his head.  
“No one’s coming, Juicy. You’re safe here. Breathe, boy - he puts one hand on Juice’s chest when he starts hyperventilating - breathe with me. You gotta breathe”  
Juice tries to inhale and fails, coughs, tries again. It goes a bit better.  
He feels sweet, blessed air fill his lungs and clear his head, and he’s suddenly ashamed.  
“Shit, Chibs. I’m sorry - he tries to disentangle himself from the other man’s embrace, but Chibs holds him again and he can’t deny himself this. Doesn’t want to. He sniffles - I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay here, you can go to sleep in your bed”  
“Shut up, boy. I’m not going anywhere”  
Juice just nods, head still against Chibs’ chest, and closes his eyes. This closeness should scare him, but he finds that he relishes the contact. Chibs makes him feel safe, and it shouldn’t be like that, not with their recent history, but he can’t help it.   
The question burns his throat anyway.  
“Why are you doing this?”  
“Why am I doing what, lad?”  
Juice shakes his head.  
“Taking care of me. You shouldn’t be taking care of me”  
Chibs looks down at him, but all he can see is his head.  
“And why is that?”  
“I should be dead”  
“You should be what? - Chibs closes his arms around him, memories of trees and chains replaying in his mind - what do you mean, boy?”  
He doesn’t know what prompts him to answer. Must be because he’s so tired. Must be that.  
“Jax ordered Tully to kill me. You guys must have voted”  
The image in Chibs’ head gets worser.  
“We didn’t”  
Juice just hums.  
“Juice, we didn’t”  
“Yeah, heard you the first time. You should have. I deserved it. And you shouldn’t be taking care of me anyway”  
Chibs rolls his eyes. He loves the lad, but he can be infuriating sometimes.  
“Why?”  
“I tried to off myself twice. The second time I was so high i told Nero about Darvany”  
“You did what?”  
“And then I didn’t say anything to Jax about Gemma. Didn’t want him to have to kill his mom, you know. And Bobby is dead because of me, Jax told me”  
Chibs takes Juice’s face in one hand, finds the switch with the other and the room is suddenly bright. Even too bright, maybe. Juice’s eyes are puffy and red, and there are tear tracks on his cheeks. He tries to thumb them away.  
“You. Did. What?”  
“Uh - Juice looks at him, insecure - I lied to Jax”  
“No, not that. Before. You tried to off…”  
“Myself. Twice.”  
Chibs closes his eyes.  
“Twice?”  
Juice’s gaze falls on his hands.  
“After I killed Darvany, you know. I overdosed at Diosa. I wanted to. I had a panic attack and took six or seven of those pills Tara gave Bobby, maybe more. Can’t remember - he’s talking about dead people. Oh, God, he’s talking about dead people - I overdosed, but Gemma was there and saved me. Didn’t want her to. Going out like that felt good.”  
There is something wrong, Chibs thinks, beside the obvious: Juice is cold and detached, as if his suicide attempts were of no importance.  
“Then I was so done, so high and I had no fucking filter, man - he nearly smiles and it’s downright scary - and I blurted everything out. I didn’t even know what I was doing”  
Chibs hugs him again.  
“So you didn’t rat”  
“In a way I did”  
Chibs holds him closer, puts his chin on his hair, one hand on his back.  
“No, you didn’t. Tell me about the rest, boy”  
Juice is silent for a while, then starts talking.  
“I went inside - he whispers - and Tara was dead, Gemma was on the floor and Eli was saying that Tara wasn’t going to betray us. I shoot him - he chokes - then told Gemma that the murder was so violent that it might have looked gang related, maybe the chinese, you know. I didn’t think that she would do that. Identify that boy, make Jax kill him. Start that fucking carnage. Bobby died because of me. He’s dead because of me. It’s on me, Chibs. I just didn’t want Jax to lose his wife and have to kill his mom in the same day”  
He clears his throat and Chibs freezes. They got it all wrong, and now this man is broken beyond measure.  
“I should be dead. I’d be better off dead. Tully shouldn’t have missed. I didn’t want him to when I gave him the scalpel”  
“You asked him to kill you?”  
Juice just shrugs.  
“Yeah. Seemed the best solution. For the club, and for me. At least I got to choose the moment. Couldn’t stay there any longer, man. You have no idea”  
He’s sitting now, legs crossed, hands on his knees. The bed is soft enough to dull the pain. Chibs would like to ask more, to make him explain, but his eyes tell him the he’s not ready yet. So, he deflect.  
“You went to the Mayans, then. Tried to sell us out”  
“I was angry - he growls - I tried to reach out to you, you didn’t even try to listen. Didn’t even look at me. I thought fuck them and tried to leave for Mexico”  
“I didn’t work”  
“Was it a question, Chibs? - Juice sounds annoyed - ‘cause I know it didn’t”  
“No, boy. It wasn’t. I’m sorry, I should have listened.”  
“Nah, it’s ok. I wouldn’t have listened to me, either”  
“No, Juicy - Chibs clears his voice - what I meant is that I should have always listened. When you tried to hang yourself, when you went ballistic and did all that crazy shit. You walked through a fucking landmine, boy! I should have listened when you made Unser call me. I just should have listened”  
“Maybe - Juice isn’t looking at him, now - but what’s done is done. Not your fault I’m a fuck up, anyway”  
“You ain’t”  
Juice just snorts, Chibs looks at him. There is one last thing he needs to ask.  
“What happened to you in jail, Juice?”  
The change in Juice’s demeanor is huge: he just shuts down, completely.  
“I don’t want to talk about it - he mutters - eyes downcast - I know you already suspect something, man. I can see it. But I can’t talk about it. Don’t make me do it”  
He’s pleading, and it’s so wrong that Chibs feels like crying himself.  
“I’ll never force you to do anything, Juice. Just know that when and if you’ll feel ready I’ll be there”  
“Might never be”  
Chibs nods, extends an arm and waits for the kid to reach out to him. The lad does, after a few seconds, and he coaxes him down again, tucks him in.  
“I suppose I’ll be there anyway, then. You’re stuck with me”  
“Sounds good” Juice answers, closing his eyes to try and go back to sleep. Chibs looks at him, unable to do the same, unable to do anything but think.


	4. Opposites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice wasn’t cynical enough, bad enough for them. Tig is a big softie too, but he’s got his own brand of madness to rely on (and again, how fucked up is that?), but Juice? The lad just got crazy, tried to kill himself fucking twice, went ballistic and did every kind of crazy stunts. Then everything went to shit and here he is now, broken and shaking and falling apart in Chibs’ arms.  
> And how really fucked up is that?

You are the loneliest person that I've ever known  
We are joined at the surface but nowhere else  
I look in the glass and stare at your strained, grey,  
Motionless face and ask  
Underneath, is there a golden soul?

Take care of the ones that you love  
Take care of the ones that you love

Baby I'm leaving here  
You need to be with somebody else  
I can't stop bleeding here  
Can you suture my wounds?

Everyone is beginning to breathe as I break down  
You are in love with a shadow that won't come back  
Sooner or later, we all have to wake  
And try forgetting everything  
Underneath, there's a perfect sky

Baby I'm leaving here  
You need to be with somebody else  
I can't stop bleeding here  
Can you suture my wounds and feelings?  
Biffy Clyro - Opposite

Chibs is making the third pot of coffee of the morning, and morning in his vocabulary means “not having been able to sleep a bloody second, thank you very much”. There was too much thinking, too many things to understand and plan, too many what ifs. There is a noise from the guest room, a thud, and he decides then and there that if Juice doesn’t come out of there in five seconds he’ll go and check on him, privacy be fucking damned…but Juice walks out of the room, rubbing sleep out from his eyes with his fists and looking embarrassed as hell.  
“I fell from the bed”  
And this is so Juice, so him, that Chibs starts laughing. Juice just gives him a tiny smile, but he looks less nervous than the day before.  
“Did you sleep well? - Chibs asks when his laughing subsides - want coffee?”  
Juice nods and moves to sit, but stops a few feet away from the chair. He doesn’t want to tell Chibs about the recurring nightmares of hands and pain, and that he’s got them on a nightly basis, but tonight he didn’t wake up screaming his head off, so what’s the point? He doesn’t want to talk about it, even if he knows that it’s gonna happen sooner or later. But not now.  
He eyes the hard, wooden chair warily, accepts the cup that Chibs is offering him and moves to sit on the sofa, Chibs watching him like a freaking hawk all the time. He clears his voice.  
“So, you’re president now?”  
Chibs just nods, half of his face hidden by his I-stopped-counting-them-at-the-fifth cup of coffee.  
“What about Jax?”  
“Went out on his own terms”  
Chibs’ voice is calm, but there’s pain in it. Juice can feel it clear as the day.  
“Shit man, I’m sorry. How did it happen?”  
And there he is, same old juicy: Jax ordered his murder and he’s sorry for his death. It’s a classic. Chibs tells him that.  
“He was right, and he had heart, man. I loved him. Until the end, I loved him. I died loving him. Or, at least, I tried”  
“You stupid fucker”  
It should be offensive, but Chibs is smiling.  
“Only you, Juice. Only you”  
Juice shrugs, looks down at his coffee. He doesn’t keep his own life in much regards lately.  
“Did he…you know. Was it peaceful? He wasn’t killed, was he?”  
“No, Juicy, no. He went out fine, riding his old man’s bike right against a truck”  
It should be horrifying, but it really isn’t. It’s nearly poetic. Juice envies him. Nods.  
“Why?”  
“He made an error, killed Indian Hills prez ‘cause he thought him a traitor. There was a Mayhem vote”  
“Shit, man. You had to vote?”  
Chibs hums and nods, gaze lost in the coffee.  
“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, Chibs. Must have been awful”  
“He asked us to”  
Juice snorts.  
“This is so Jax”  
“I don’t get you”  
Juice looks confused, now. He is, actually. Chibs rolls his eyes so hard he sees his brain.  
“He ordered your death, bypassing the club”  
“Yeah, I know. I was there. I had a choice, made the wrong one."  
"Who told you this, Jax?"  
"Who told me what?"  
Juice is getting nervous: Chibs looks angry, and it'a not a good sign.  
"That you had a choice and made the wrong one, kid"  
"Oh. Yeah, that was Jax"  
"Figures. Listen to me, Juicy: you had no choice, and I mean that. Those who say that we always have a choice are the same that often don't have to make choices like the ones you had to make. They got no idea what it means."  
"I don't think that Jax had no idea about that"  
"He still hadn't, at the time"  
Juice looks stunned, fingers tapping on his coffee cup. Chibs looks at him, arms crossed across his chest, and decides to go on.  
“He didn’t listen to you”  
Juice looks conflicted at that, shrugs and tries to answer.  
“He was right. His kid, Abel, was getting crazy because of what Gemma did, pulled a stunt that…”  
“Come on, Juice!”  
Chibs smashes the cup against the counter, and the noise makes Juice fucking jump on the sofa, eyes large and defense mode kicking in again. He braces himself for a beating or for something even worse.  
That never comes.  
When he opens his eyes (had he closed them? He can’t remember), Chibs is looking at him from the other side of the kitchen.  
“Boy, you look like my old man after some bomb had gone off in Belfast - he says - what happened to you?”  
The club, he wants to say. Tully. Pain. Constant fear and panic.  
“There is a war in my brain, Chibs” he’d like to say.  
“Your old man was right, Chibs” he’d like to say.  
“Things”  
He says instead, and he feels like he already said too much because Chibs’ gaze narrows and he feels so exposed he has to resist the instinct to run.  
“Things - Chibs repeats, crouching down to pick up the broken cup’s pieces - things, Juice?”  
Juice’s hands start shaking, and soon his whole body feels unsteady.  
“Don’t make me say it - he chokes out - I can’t…Chibs, I can’t. Please”  
Juice jumps again when Chibs puts his hands on his knees, broken cup discarded on the floor. When did he get so close?  
“Hey, hey boy, now - he calls, grounding him with his hands - no need to react like this, ok? Calm down, Juicy”  
Juice shakes his head, jumps up and starts pacing around the room.  
“Can’t - he wheezes - can’t”  
Chibs watches him, then grabs his wrist when he walks next to him and makes him sit down again.  
“Juicy, it’s alright. Calm down kid”  
“No man, it’s not alright - Juice’s head is in his hands, and his breath feels funny - I fucked everything up, and i got fucked up so bad that I can’t even…”  
His head comes up, and his eyes are fucking crazy, wild and huge. Chibs’ hands must have a mind of their own, because they fly on Juice’s cheeks and keep him still.  
“Juicy, look at me - he calls him, trying to make him focus - look at me. Juan, come on, look at me. I’m here boy, you’re safe”  
Juice seems transfixed: opens his mouth, closes it, gulps down air.  
“I’m sorry - he whispers - you shouldn’t have to babysit me”  
“Shut up, boy”  
The hug is so sudden that Juice stiffens, but relaxes after a few seconds, lets his head fall on Chibs’ shoulder and fists his hand in his shirt.  
“Why did you change your mind about me?”  
“You know I’ve always loved you, kid - Chibs answers, kissing his head - you payed for your errors, your slate is clean”  
“Oh, I paid alright - Juice groans - I paid alright. Were they really so big, Chibs? I know I fucked up big, but that was…”  
And there it is again, something that Chibs doesn’t really understands but chills him to the core anyway. He holds Juice, wishing that he could know, help.  
“I don’t know, boy - he rocks him back and forth, back and forth - can’t answer you if you don’t answer me first”  
Juice’s answer is a strange keening sound, but he keeps silent otherwise.  
Chibs knows that the boy has a whole world in his head, and that he never speaks about it: he might have been the clown of their deranged family, but he’s so much deeper than that. He was chosen for his computer skills, and he’s a fucking pro at that, no kidding, but after a while everyone seemed to have forgotten about that and he was relegated to be the club’s clown, Clay’s babysitter, Tara’s shadow and stuff like that. He must have suffered for that, but never said a word, never got angry. He was too scared to be thrown out to react, so he simply kept silent and opted for the only solution that wouldn’t make him lose his only family.  
And how fucked up was that?  
Juice wasn’t cynical enough, bad enough for them. Tig is a big softie too, but he’s got his own brand of madness to rely on (and again, how fucked up is that?), but Juice? The lad just got crazy, tried to kill himself fucking twice, went ballistic and did every kind of crazy stunts. Then everything went to shit and here he is now, broken and shaking and falling apart in Chibs’ arms.  
And how really fucked up is that?


	5. Down in the hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, come on, don’t be like that - Tig’s smile is huge and a bit crazy - you are. You’re a softie, and you love that kid”  
> Chibs nods, smoke exiting from his nostrils in a white cloud.  
> “Aye, I do”  
> “Good, we all should - Tig gets serious - we should have taken better care of him”

Sun comes every morning, but it ain't no friend  
I get dressed and I go back again  
The rain it keeps on fallin', on twisted bones and dirt  
I'm buried to my heart here in this hurt  
The fire keeps on burnin', you're waiting in the cold  
Down in the hole

Bruce Springsteen - Down in the hole

 

Life goes on anyway: it has to, Juice knows that. He surely doesn’t expect the world to stop turning just because his life stopped making any sense, that would be selfish. And he can be many things: a fuck up, a coward, a clown, but not selfish, that’s just not him. That’s why when Chibs asks him to go to the clubhouse with him because he doesn’t like the idea of leaving him alone he accepts. He’s already imposing too much, doesn’t want to distract him from his prez duties.  
But he’s scared, and really doesn’t want to go. To say that he’s scared is a gentle euphemism, actually: he’s fucking terrified. He’s sweating like a… how was that? Oh yes, like a cornered nun. The problem is, he completely understands that hypothetic nun, now.  
He follows Chibs on his own bike eve if the pain makes his eyes water, he wants to have a way to get home quickly should things go bad. Maybe he won’t even stop at Chibs’ place and go on, leave Charming and who the fuck knows where he’ll ends up. He really doesn’t care.  
He parks next to Chibs and lets the scotsman help him situate his bike: the clubhouse is still the same, with its candy store downstairs and its mysteries upstairs. He feels dizzy, but keeps on following Chibs, passing the other Sons’ bikes, until the scotsman stops him with an hand.  
“Wait here, Juice. I need to have a word with them first”  
Juice nods, not trusting his own voice, and fixes the reaper on the man’s back as he walks away.

Chibs gathers them all around the table, trying to find a way for Juice to be safe. He escaped death three times, he doesn’t want him to have to try a fourth: the boy is already broken enough. He tells them everything Juice told him the night before, tells them even his fears, what he thinks happened to him, the suspects that Juice refuses to confirm, ad then shuts up, hands shaking and throat dry, until he hears a whispered  
“Jesus fucking Christ”  
It’s Tig, he knows it’s him. He looks at his VP and waits.  
“Is this all real? Everything?”  
“You shoulda seen him - Chibs nods, thinking that he’s betraying Juice’s trust, maybe, but he’s doing it to protect him - he’s a mess, Tig. Jumpy as hell, flinches at every noise and every touch, his belly, back, hips and chest are covered in bruises and fresh scars and - he taps his own collarbone - he’s got the signs from when Tully tried to kill him”  
“The sick fuck”  
It’s Rat, this time, and Chibs is surprised: Rat and Juice got history since the whole cocaine brick thing, hearing him talk is relieving.  
“What are you asking, Chibs? - T.O. asks - to let him be part of the club again?”  
Chibs stands up, hands playing with the gavel, and shakes his head.  
“No, I’m asking you to leave him be, try to be his family again. I don’t even know if he wants back in or not - he clears his voice - he boy is fucking broken, can0t leave him alone now. He wouldn’t survive his own head. Do you want to vote?”  
“No need, prez - Tig shakes his head, standing up - this isn’t strictly a club matter, is it? It’s informal. And, for me, Juice’s slate is clean. God knows I fucked up big too”  
Chibs feels the tension ebbing, that nervous knot he felt in his stomach vanishes and he can breath again as he looks at his nodding brothers.  
“He still hasn’t talked about what happened to him? - Happy asks - where is him, anyway?”  
“Actually he’s right here, downstairs - Chibs admits - and not a word about his time in jail, ok?”  
“Sure, man - Tig grins - let him in”

Juice is contemplating his great escape, movie style, when Chibs appears on the stairs motioning him up.  
“Maybe I should leave - he says, not moving from his spot next to the tables - don’t want to disturb you”  
Chibs looks down at him and crosses his arms, quirking an eyebrow.  
“Nonsense, boy, the guys want to see you”  
What if I don’t want to see them? He thinks, but doesn’t say a word: looks down at his boots and shuffles his feet.  
“Come on, Juicy - Chibs’ voice is close, now, and when he looks up he meets the scotsman gaze - you’re good, they’re your family. Fuck, we’re your family. We won’t leave you alone”  
He’d like to say that they already did, that no one came to see him in jail if not to tell him that he had to die, that they shunned him from the beginning but he doesn’t want to say anything like that because Chibs is trying so hard to make it up to him.  
“Ok, Chibs - he croaks, throat dry as the Atacama desert - I trust you”  
And this is big, it’s huge: Chibs has his trust back, but he still doesn’t know if it’s been the right decision. The man hugs him, lets him rest his head on his shoulder for a while.  
“It’s going to be alright, Juicy boy - he says, hand caressing his scalp - it’s going to be alright. Wanna see the guys? You don’t have to if you don’t feel like doing it”  
Juice just nods. Every step he takes on those familiar stairs sends spikes of pain straight to his brain, he has to stop when he’s nearly on top, and Chibs’ gaze never leaves him.  
He never looks back.  
The clubhouse is more or less the same: there are a couple of new prospect attending to the bar, while everyone is still sitting around the table. He sees them: Tig, Rat, Happy, T.O., and has two very different instincts fighting to take control of him: run away from there or run to them. He freezes, instead, fingers tapping a frenetic rhythm on his jeans, until Tig screams:  
“Juicy boy!”  
And there are smiles, and pats on his back. Tig hugs him, Rat just smiles, T.O. and Happy get close and clasp his shoulder. There are so many hands touching him it’s overwhelming, and it angers him. He sways a bit.  
Chibs must notice, because he’s next to him in a few long strides, arm looped around his shoulder, pressing his side against his back, grounding him, and he forgets the anger for a while.  
“Where are you tattoos, boy? - Tig smiles, passing his fingers through his hair - can’t see them anymore”  
And it’s nearly too much.  
He tries to smile, but his hands are already starting to shake, and Chibs holds him tighter.  
“Alright ladies, alright - the man screams - don’t smother him for fuck sake. Want a beer, Juicy boy?”  
Juice nods again, it feels like his voice stopped working since he stepped in the clubhouse, and lets Chibs guide him to the bar; a bottle is placed in front of him by a smiling Johnny and the greets the boy, thanking him with a nod.  
“Sit with me, Juice - Tig calls from a stool - come here!”  
Juice eyes the wooden seat and hesitates: the ride has nearly killed him, reawakening the pain the the night rest had in a way lessened and that chair doesn’t look like a good choice. Chibs saves him again waving at him from the leather sofa, and he smiles gratefully, asking Tig to join them instead. Tig’s blue eyes study him, ad his expression in unreadable until he smiles and nods, sitting beside him. He’s sandwiched between the two men, and it makes him feel strangely safe. It’s so weird been here with them. It feels like home and betrayal at the same time.  
“So - he asks, beer bottle on one knee - you and Venus? How is it going?”  
Tig throws his head back and laughs, Chibs just smiles.  
“You like gossips, boy? We’ve been together for nearly one year and half now”  
“That’s great, man! - he smiles, and it reaches his eyes for once - she’s good for you. And your daughter? How was it…Fawn?”  
Tig tells him everything he wants to know: how the club is doing (pretty good since they’ve gone legal, it seems), how it’s going with Venus (fucking great, actually), and how are the things with his daughter (they suck but hey, nothing is perfect right?). Chibs smiles when he feels like doing it, his hand never leaving Juice’s shoulder. He’s thankful for that, and he’s happy to see Tig again, and Happy, and T.O., and Rat. Can nearly forget his anger for a while.  
“I still remember that stunt you pulled with those cops, those that tried to take your bikes - the younger man says, Brooke hugging him and smiling - that was awesome, man”  
Juice remembers that too, crazy cowboy shit Jax said, and the mere thought of the man makes his stomach clench. He tries to smile and shakes his head, second beer already cut in half.  
“Yeah man, that was great - he answers - but your timing with the van was perfect”  
“Fuck yes, it was - Rat smiles down at his girl and she beams at him - you crazy fucker”

Tig never stops looking at Juice, and when he gets up from the sofa he slides closer to Chibs.  
“They really did a number on him - he whispers, sticking his chin toward the boy - flinched hard when I hugged him, wouldn’t sit on the stool. I don’t know man, but he’s bad, you were right. Do you know whose fault is this?”  
Chibs would like to sneer “ours”, but just shakes his head, gaze fixed on Juice too.  
“Nothing sure - he answers, a cigarette balanced between his lips - but I got some ideas. That Tully guy ain’t right”  
“No, he ain’t”  
“We should go and talk to him”  
“Dunno - Tig shakes his head - you should talk to Juice first”  
Chibs knows that, but it’s so hard. Juice isn’t talking, panic setting in every time he tries to approach the subject.  
“Ain’t easy”  
“I know, man, but you gotta. You can’t just go to Tully behind the kid’s back - he pats Chibs’ knee - where is he staying, anyway?”  
“My place - Chibs shrugs at Tig’s surprised gaze - had nowhere else to go, and I can’t leave him alone”  
“You’re a good man, Filip Telford”  
Chibs just scoffs.  
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that - Tig’s smile is huge and a bit crazy - you are. You’re a softie, and you love that kid”  
Chibs nods, smoke exiting from his nostrils in a white cloud.  
“Aye, I do”  
“Good, we all should - Tig gets serious - we should have taken better care of him”  
“He’s an adult, Tig”  
“Yep, but what happened to him should never happen to anyone”  
“You think I don’t know? - Chibs growls, then inhales and calms down - sorry man, it’s just that it’s hard seeing him like that. Woke up at four in the morning and the lad was in a fucking panic, kept asking me if they were coming”  
Tig’s eyes grow wide, he never looks as scary as when he’s angry for something that happened to someone he cares about.  
“They who?”  
“Got no fucking idea”  
“Just suspects”  
Chibs’ hands are on his face, his elbows on his knees.  
“Aye”  
“This sucks”  
The scot hums.  
“Massively”  
They look at Juice, standing next to Happy as he listens to something the other man is saying. He looks nearly fine, but he’s jittery and all his nervous tics are starting to show.  
“Why didn’t you treat me like we treated him when I killed Donna? - Tig asks - when I killed that girl and started all that mess with Pope? Opie is on me, man. How comes Jax didn’t kill me too?”  
Chibs’ hands are joined together against his lips, cigarette forgotten in the ashtray. He glances at Tig, then moves is gaze on Juice again.  
“I don’t know. The first time you were covered by Clay, the second - Chibs shakes his head, slowly - I don’t know. We’ve always been harder on him, and I can’t understand why. It’s just as if we’d chose him as our scapegoat, innit? I still don’t know why he decided to stick around after we started using him like that, after we started to treat him wrong, forgiving some brothers for things worse than he did, while he was constantly seen as the traitor and the stupid kid that couldn’t do anything right”  
It’s a lie, and a big, fat one: he knows why Juice decided to stay. He’s alone, literally alone. No family, no friends, no one. Just them. He did everything he could not to lose his new family, and his new family did this to him. Chibs would have gone mad, rage consuming him ‘till nothing remained but ashes, but the kid decided to bear it with a conviction that leaves even Chibs, with his catholic education, fucking amazed. And scared. No one should be that desperate.  
Tig is silent, looking at the boy. He’s not the same, he can tell: his smiles used to be so huge they could tear his face in half, now they don’t even reach his eyes, if and when they make an appearance.  
“You gotta make him talk - he tells Chibs, and it’s urgent, nearly feverish - or this will destroy him”  
“He’s not talking to me”  
Chibs sounds desperate, cigarette back in his hand. Tig nods.  
“Give him time, don’t get angry if he doesn’t speak or gets scared, don’t leave him alone - he looks at the scot, and his eyes are so serious. It’s such an unusual look on him, so raw and open - you’re the only one he will open up with. You’re the only person he knows he can rely on: he tried to contact you before going to the Mayans, right? He called you, not me”  
“Aye, and I didn’t listen to him. It’s just - Chibs fists his hands in his hair - it’s so fucking difficult. He’s barely keeping it together, and I don’t know what to do”  
Tig slides his arm around Chibs’ shoulders, squeezes him hard.  
“I know prez, and I don’t envy you. But you’re the only one who can do it. He’ll be devoured by that. Destroyed. And I don’t want to see… - Tig’s voice vanishes, and he looks so distraught that Chibs feels bad for him - I feel so fucking guilty, prez”  
“How do you think I feel? He reached out to me, and I told him to eat his gun. Literally.”  
Tig squeezes him again.  
“We fucked up. He fucked up too, but we fucked up anyway. We gotta make it right to him - he smiles - go get your boy home, he looks tired”  
And Juice really does: there are black circles forming under his eyes, and he looks unsteady. Chibs nods, patting Tig’s knee, and gets up.  
“Hey, Juicy boy - he calls - I’m wasted, wanna head home?”  
Juice looks actually relieved to see him, and it breaks Chibs’ heart. He doesn’t deserve the kid’s trust, and he’s so fucking honored to still have it that he decides that nothing will happen to him, ever again. Going home sounds good to Juice, so he nods, says his goodbyes and joins him.  
“Feel good enough to ride? - Chibs asks him when they reach their bikes, the night air fresh enough to wake him up - wanna ride with me? You had your fair share of drinks in there”  
Juice contemplates it for a few seconds, then shakes his head.  
“No man, I wanna ride - he smiles down at his bike - it’s been a while since I’ve had my baby with me”  
“Fair enough, boy. Follow me”  
He waits until Juice is ready, pretending not to see him grimace and hiss when he sits down.


	6. People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry - he repeats - I’m so fucking sorry”  
> Juice shakes his head.  
> “Not your fault”  
> “Not yours either, kid”

Home is a place I don't belong  
'Cause I'm a man that you should never love  
And my words are like a bomb  
Biffy Clyro - People 

It’s the second time he wakes up in the outside world, and the smell of coffee helps him remember that he’s home with Chibs, and not in a cell with Tully, and the chinks, and…no, brain, don’t fucking go there. All those guys visited his nightmares anyway, no need to think about them when he’s awake too. He knows that one night or another he’ll awake Chibs screaming his head off and he will know, but luckily it’s not happened yet.   
He can’t sleep well, though, and it’s starting to show: dark circles under his eyes, shaking hands, and he’s so fucking tired he can’t think straight. The pain faded, and that’s a good thing: it means that he can ride again, and that’s the only way he knows to clear his head and stop thinking for a while.  
He rubs his hands on his face, falling back down on the mattress and groans. He’s got an headache from hell.  
“Juicy boy, you awake?”  
Chibs’ scottish drawl reaches him from the kitchen. He groans again and keeps silent.  
“I heard you, boy. Come on, coffee’s ready”  
Silence. Steps.  
“Juice?”  
Silence. A groan, again.  
“You ok, lad? Can I come in?”  
Silence silence silence, then, a cough.  
“I’m coming in”  
“No lights!”  
Juice’s voice is rough and pained, and Chibs takes the few steps that separates him from the bed in the darkness, slowly.  
“You ok, kid?”  
“No, man - Juice groans again, hiding his head under the pillow - got a splitting headache”  
Chibs smiles.  
“How much did you drink yesterday?”  
“Shut up, I’m not hungover. Wasn’t even drunk”  
“Your body ain’t used to alcohol anymore, boy - Chibs sits down, rubbing his back - it’s normal”  
“Dunno man - Juice’s answers, shoulders tense and head coming out from under the pillow - I feel hot, and nauseous”  
“Do you, now?”  
Chibs sounds concerned, slides one hand on Juice’s forehead and keeps it there for a few seconds.  
“What the fuck, kid? - his eyebrows jump up - you’ve got a fever. Did you even had a cold, yesterday? Was it the ride?”  
Juice shakes his head, eyes closing and arms on his stomach. He’s got an idea about what’s happening, but doesn’t want Chibs to know.   
Looks like confession time has come, anyway. He dreads those moments, hates them with a passion, so he blurts it out like ripping a band-aid.  
“It’s the withdrawals”  
Chibs keeps silent, hand rubbing up and down Juice’s spine.  
“Talk to me, Juicy boy”  
Juice’s voice comes out as a whisper.  
“No, Chibs. Please”  
“Can’t help you if you don’t”  
Juice is silent for a long while, feels Chibs’ hand on his back, feels the shaking in his hands, feels so tense he could break in half, fear gnawing at his brain.  
“Don’t want to lose you again - he chokes in the end, curling on himself - please”  
“You won’t, boy - Chibs’ hands are massaging his shoulders now, trying to ease some tension - I swear you won’t”  
There is another long silence, then Juice takes a deep breath.  
“Just, don’t get angry. Please”  
Chibs nods, fingers working in Juice’s knotted muscles.  
“I needed the drugs, man. I would have gone crazy without them”  
“What did you take?”  
“Everything Tully could put his hands on - Juice chokes on the man’s name, memories flooding his brain and breath becoming erratic - every fucking thing. Pills, meds, cocaine, heroine, speed, crystal. Heroine and coke mostly. Some weed when he wanted me to relax”  
Juice shows him his hands, his ankles, his arms. There are scars there, some fresh scabs. Chibs doesn’t know how he missed that, but the kid’s body is covered in new, bigger scars and ugly bruises that must have distracted him. Not on his face though, there are just some minor scars there: maybe Tully liked him enough not to ruin him. The thought makes him shudder.  
“Relax? - Juice’s eyes are still closed, and this troubles Chibs. He keeps on massaging his shoulders - for what?”  
Juice’s whole body tenses even more.  
“Don’t make me say it - he wheezes - you’re gonna hate me. Please. You’re gonna hate me again”  
That word, again, destroys him. Chibs didn’t really hate the boy, he was just so fucking angry, and pissed, and… but he didn’t let it show, and now Juice thinks that he will lose him again.  
“I won’t kid - Chibs feels his throat closing - come on, up you go”  
He coaxes Juice to sit against his chest, keeping him covered with the yellow duvet, denim covered legs on both sides of the kid, and can feel the heat radiating from his body even with all their clothes in between.  
“Go on, boy - he kisses Juice’s head - I’m here. Let it out”  
Juice’s hands grab Chibs fingers, knees coming up against his chest. Chibs can’t see it, but his eyes are scared, and open wide. He feels the scot squeeze his fingers back and takes a leap.   
“The first thing they made me do when i got there…they gave me a knife, you know. To kill Lin. Tully’s curtesy. I had to hide it and had no pockets, so i had just one choice - Chibs nods, but doesn’t react. It’s nothing special in prison - turns out, it was just training”  
Juice scoffs and Chibs tenses, feels his stomach clench.  
“I had to get high, Chibs. You can’t…it happened every day, every fucking night. At first just him, then Lin’s gang started too after I killed him, and I couldn’t even react or they would beat me up, send me to the infirmary and get me there all together - Juice sounds frantic, and Chibs is getting scared for the kid - i got beaten up lot of times, they got me in the infirmary every time. Guards didn’t say a word. Then I would be sent back to my cell and Tully would get me there. He gave me poems books with flowers inside, fucking scented lubricant, the sick fuck. Would read poems to me as i got high, then…”  
Juice chokes and Chibs holds him, cocooning the kid in his arms: his hands are squeezing the life out of Juice’s fingers, but the he doesn’t seem to mind.  
“It’s ok, boy. I got you - he kisses his hair again - I got you”  
“I had to get high, Chibs. I had to. Don’t hate me, I had to.”  
“Juice, I don’t hate you. Calm down”  
“I would have lost my fucking mind - he wheezes, and it’s anger, desperation and guilt all mixed up together in a lethal mixture, flowing in his veins - and now I gotta get them out of my system, and it won’t be pretty so if you want me to leave i understand”  
Shit, the kid still thinks about himself as a burden, and Chibs has no one to blame for it if not himself. If possible, he holds him even tighter, rocking him back and forth on the bed.  
“You ain’t going anywhere - the scot’s chin is on Juice’s shoulder, now - I’m sorry, kid. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I had no idea”  
“Jax new. And Unser, and Jarry. They all knew. I thought you knew too”  
“What do you mean, Jax knew?”  
Juice shrugs, eyes wet.  
“Tully told him, he gave him his blessings. So I thought you knew”  
“No way Jax would do that, kid. Tully must have lied to you”  
Juice growls: it’s a strange sound, low in his throat, and takes Chibs totally by surprise. The kid spins, gets away from him, and there is real anger in his eyes.  
“Believe what you fucking want - he hisses - I’m not lying. Tully told him, and Jax gave him his blessings, and I can’t even blame him”  
“Jax would never do anything like that - Chibs tries to think. Fast. Tries to take Juice’s hands, but he recoils - he loved you”  
That’s it: Juice starts laughing, and it’s so deranged it sends chills down Chibs’ spine.  
“Fuck you, man - he screams - fuck you. He said it to my face, Jax told me that to my fucking face! And he told me that he would make it quick, and he didn’t! I didn’t die, I didn’t fucking die! He promised, and Tully fucking failed, and I didn’t die! Your fucking saint Jax!”  
He’s gonna be sick. Oh fuck, he’s gonna be sick. His head is gonna explode. He jumps from the bed, stumbles to the toilet and loses everything he ate in the sink, not even reaching the WC in time. Chibs is on his heels, hands on his back, trying to keep him from falling on his knees. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, and what hurts the most is that Chibs still doesn’t believe him.  
“Why should I lie about this? - he asks, spitting in the sink and letting Chibs help washing his face. He drinks some water, trying to erase the taste from his mouth - tell me this, Chibs. Why would i lie?”  
It’s raw, and desperate, and Chibs doesn’t know what to think. He feels Juice’s knees give out, and catches him before he can meet the pavement.  
“Come on, boy - he whispers in his ear as he carries him to the guest room - let’s get you in bed, uh?”  
Juice lets himself be manhandled, lands on the mattress and curls on the covers. He’s silent, eyes huge and dazed, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as always. Chibs fingers cards through his hairs and he shudders, getting back to the present.  
“I didn’t die - he repeats - and they had me for two years, Chibs, two years. That’s 730 days, 17. 520 hours, and, and…”  
He can’t take it anymore. He counted everything in there, he counted the days, the hours, the meals, the times they put their hands on him.  
“I’m not lying, Chibs. Please - he breaks down - I’m not lying. I’m not”  
Chibs’ hands are fisted and pressed against his eyes, he can’t believe it. Doesn’t want to. He feels like puking, and screaming, and crying, but he promised the kid he wouldn’t react like that, so all he can do is run out of the room, out of his home, and punch the wall. Once. Twice. He feels the pain and relishes it. It grounds him, makes him feel in control again. When he calms down he remembers Juice, curled on his bed, and feels like shit for leaving him alone like that after promising himself he’d keep him safe.  
When he gets back in the kid is fucking crying, elbows on his knees, head down, hands locked on the back of his neck: his t-shirt is crumpled, and reveals scars and bruising and sweaty skin.  
“Just give me a few minutes - he chokes, voice wet - I’ll leave, you won’t see me again. I know you don’t believe me, just give me…”  
Juice never gets to finish the sentence, because Chibs’ chest is suddenly plastered against his back and there are arms around him.  
“You’re not leaving, kid - Chibs says, holding him - I’m sorry. I believe you, and I’m so fucking sorry”  
A new wave of tears hits him, and he starts sobbing like a fucking child, tries to stop but can’t, just can’t, and Chibs turns him around, hugs him, squeezes him as if he could take the pain away like that. They left him alone, left him to be destroyed by those fuckers, and he’ll never forgive himself for this.  
“I’m sorry, kid, I’m so sorry - Chibs’ hands are on his back, drawing soothing circles on fevered skin - shit, I had no idea. I’ve got you, I’ve got you”  
He goes on until Juice’s breath evens out and he’s breathing again: one of Chibs’ hands slides behind Juice’s neck, feeling the heat there, the other wipes his tears away.  
“I’m sorry - he repeats - I’m so fucking sorry”  
Juice shakes his head.  
“Not your fault”  
“Not yours either, kid”  
Juice looks conflicted, shakes his head.  
“I could have reacted, I should have resisted the drugs. You should hate me even if it would kill me. You should. I’m a fuck up, and you should hate me, and I don’t deserve your help”  
“Who told you this? - Juice’s face is cradled in Chibs’ hands - I’m the one that doesn’t deserve your trust, boy. Who told you this? Someone told you this?”  
Juice’s fingers taps his head, twice.  
“My head is messy place”  
He almost smiles.  
“Tell tour head that I disagree, boy - Chibs kisses his forehead - you’re not a fuck up, and I don’t hate you. Could never hate you”  
“You told me to eat my gun”  
“Aye boy, I did - Chibs takes a deep breath - forgive me?”  
Juice is silent for a while, looks down at his hands, then his eyes find Chibs.  
“You meant it?”  
That’s a fucked up question. Was he angry with him? Hell, yes. He would have choked him with his bare hands for his shitty choices. Did he want him dead? No. Never. So, why?  
“I had to hurt you to make you leave. I wanted you to run, put Charming on your rearview mirror and never look back”  
“Didn’t really work”  
“I know, you hard headed mule”  
It’s endearing, and Juice’s smile is wet and lopsided, doesn’t really reach his eyes, but it’s there anyway.  
“I kinda miss your smiles, boy - Chibs laughs at Juice’s widening eyes - I know how that sounds, but I really do”  
Juice nods, then lies down. There is an hand on his forehead and he has to remind himself again that he’s safe there.  
“This chat wasn’t good for you. Let me call Tig, he can help with this withdrawals mess”  
“No! No - Juice’s eyes are blown wide, voice pleading, hangs grabbing at Chibs’ shirt - he can’t know, Chibs. Just you. Please, just you”  
“Boy, calm down - Chibs’ hand smoothes Juice’s t-shirt - he won’t judge you, won’t think any less of you. There’s nothing to judge or to be ashamed of, here”  
Juice’s eyes roam all around the room, breath itching, but his eyes never meet the scotsman’s. He’s silent, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.  
“Does he know?”  
He whispers after a while. Chibs’ answer is a light shrug, hand still on his chest, thumb rubbing on his sternum. He feels breathless, he knows what’s in store for him.  
“He suspects something, Juicy - Chibs hands start massaging his shoulders again, linger on his neck. The man is sitting beside him, now - you flinch at every touch, every noise, you wouldn’t sit on hard surfaces…he made two and two”  
“Shit - Juice covers his eyes with his hands, he feels like crying again - shit, Chibs”  
He’s exposed, and raw, and he feel so ashamed. He knows he shouldn’t, but being powerless and at the mercy of someone else is something ugly, and awful, that left him tainted and in ruins.  
“Boy, it’s ok. He loves you, you know. He wants you to be ok again”  
Juice keeps silent, hands still on his eyes. He just nods.  
“He went through what you’re going through now. The withdrawals, I mean - Chibs keeps his hands on his shoulders, thumbs massaging the muscle - he can help. Let him help you, kid. Please”  
Juice’s eyes fly open, he never heard Chibs plead before, let alone with him. The man is looking at him, dead serious, but there is a hint of something else there. Protectiveness. Sadness. Helplessness. He doesn’t want to be the cause of that look on Chibs’ face, so he nods.  
“Ok”  
“Good boy”  
Chibs gets close to kiss his forehead again, but Juice’s eyes become hard, gaze angry.   
“Don’t call me that - he growls - hate it, man”  
Chibs stops in mid motion, looks down at the kid and nods, hand caressing his short hair.  
“Aye, Juicy. I won’t”  
“They would call me that, sometimes”  
Juice’s eyes are fixing him, and Chibs can’t do anything but nod again.  
“I understand, it’s alright. I won’t say that again”  
“Thanks - juice looks calmer, lets Chibs kiss his head - sorry”  
“What for, kid?”  
Chibs gets up, fishes his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and smoothes the covers.  
“Shouldn’t react like this with you. I know I’m safe here, I just can’t switch it off - he bites his lip again, at the rate he’s doing it Chibs is amazed he still got something to bite - I’m sorry”  
“Hey, it’s ok. I know your head is in a bad place - Chibs hesitates, showing him the phone - I’m calling Tig, then I want you to get up, eat something and take a shower. You’ll feel better”  
Juice doesn’t look too convinced: he knows that Chibs is right, but…  
“It’s so cold, man - he whines - do I really have to?”  
Chibs laughs, phone ringing against his ear.  
“Aye kid, you really have to ’till you have the strength to do it. I don’t think you’re gonna eat much in the next days”  
“No, I think I won’t - Juice looks pensive, then holds out one hand - help me up?”  
It’s a conquest, Juice starting a contact on his own: Chibs takes his hand and helps him to sit, keeps one arm looped around his middle and lets him rest against his side while he waits for his VP to pick up.  
“What’s up, prez? - Tig’s voice is full of sleep - something wrong?”  
Chibs looks at Juice, still resting against him, and smiles trying to look reassuring.  
“Tig, I need your help with something”  
“And this something can’t wait? - Tig yawns - It’s fucking nine in the morning, and it’s sunday”  
“Your beauty sleep will have to wait - Chibs’ scottish accent thickens as he growls, on the other side of the phone he can hear Venus’ voice asking something - sorry for waking you guys up, but it’s important”  
Tig must feel the urgency in his tone, because he gets suddenly serious.  
“I’m up, man. What’s happening?”  
Juice is dozing against him now, and Chibs has to shake him awake. The pained expression in the younger man’s eyes is enough to make Chibs hate himself.  
“Our Juicy boy has some problems, kind of what you got years ago, when you quit your hobbies. Remember?”  
There is silence on the other side, then Tig mutters a quiet  
“Shit”  
“My thought exactly”  
Chibs’ hand is rubbing Juice’s bare arm, feeling the goosebumps there. The kid must be really cold.  
“I’m coming, man. Just give me a few minutes to gather what your boy might need and I’ll be there - Chibs hears Venus again, this time a lot more clearer - Hey prez, Venus asks is she should come to. Told her about your suspects, I think she could help”  
Chibs covers Juice with the comforter, trying to keep him warm, and holds him closer.  
“Ain’t suspects anymore, Tig - Juice freezes, and Chibs restarts his soothing movement up and down his arm, trying to keep him calm - do you mind if Venus comes too, Juicy?”  
Juice’s gaze is doubtful, but at the end he nods.  
“You sure?”  
Another nod. Chibs looks at him and lets him put his head on his shoulder: he’s sweating and shivering, and his eyes look unfocused. Chibs needs to know what to do as soon as possible. Like, yesterday.  
“Bring your lady, Tig. Juice doesn’t mind”  
“Ok, man. Give the kid some white bread, keep him hydrated and put a bucket next to the bed. I’m coming”  
The line falls silent, Chibs too; he looks down at his boy and feels a wave of affection.  
“Come on, gotta get something in that stomach of yours - Chibs smiles down at him - at least you’ll have something to puke later”  
“Hm - Juice grimaces at the thought - so funny, man”


	7. Julien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shit man, you’re a fucking walking pharmacy - he smiles - thanks, Tig”  
> “Oh, I know right? - Tig smiles too, sitting on the armchair in front of the sofa, Venus reclaiming her place on his knees - I need to know what you took to see if those meds are the right ones, Juicy boy”  
> “The opposite list would be quicker - Chibs snorts as Juice scowls, still sprawled upon him - coke, heroine, crack, weed, speed, pills…pretty much the whole catalogue even if it looks like coke and heroine were what he was given the most”

You're a slow motion suicide  
Placebo - Julien

 

When Tig and Venus arrive, Chibs has managed to force a few pieces of toast inside Juice’s mouth, some blue gatorade that tastes like shit and half a slice of a green apple, but that’s it. Venus smiles down at him, half sprawled on the sofa and half on Chibs’ chest, crouches down and kisses his forehead.  
“Hello sweetheart - she greets - I’m so happy to see you again”  
Juice would like to say that he’s happy too, and that she looks beautiful, but he’s feeling so nauseous that he’s afraid he’ll puke on her dress, so he manages a smile and holds out one hand to touch her hair.  
“You don’t look too good, mh? - Venus’ hands are soft as she caresses his cheek - We’ll take care of you, Juice. You’ll feel better soon, ok?”  
Tig is standing behind her, hands on his hips and a couple of plastic bags hanging from his wrists. He looks at the kid and shakes his head, sending curls flying everywhere.  
“You’re in for a hell of a ride, boy - he says, gaze fixed on Chibs more than on Juice - Ain’t gonna be pretty, but we’re gonna help you”  
He puts one hand on Juice’ shoulder and squeezes lightly, Juice does his best to smile again, but what comes out looks more like a grimace.  
“You’ll be alright, boy. Now - Tig looks around - we gotta junkieproof your place, prez. No knives, forks, everything that could be used as a weapon. Lock the doors and the windows, hide the keys and all the meds you got and stock the fridge with these”  
He starts taking out red gatorade bottles and Juice feels like puking already. He hates gatorade.  
“Then, after a while, we can start giving him this - he takes out a bottle of Buprenafina MYL and one of Suboxone - should do the trick. Tastes like shit, but works magic”  
Chibs eyes are blown wide.  
“Shit man, you’re a fucking walking pharmacy - he smiles - thanks, Tig”  
“Oh, I know right? - Tig smiles too, sitting on the armchair in front of the sofa, Venus reclaiming her place on his knees - I need to know what you took to see if those meds are the right ones, Juicy boy”  
“The opposite list would be quicker - Chibs snorts as Juice scowls, still sprawled upon him - coke, heroine, crack, weed, speed, pills…pretty much the whole catalogue even if it looks like coke and heroine were what he was given the most”  
“Hell kid, my compliments - Tig looks actually impressed, but all Juice can feel is shame - you got out two days ago after two years of mad junkyness, and yesterday you looked fine, so I need to ask you something, and i need you to be totally honest, Juicy boy”  
Chibs looks at his VP: Tig fixes Juice as if he could x-ray his brain, the man is scary when he’s serious. The kid nods, waiting for the bomb to drop.  
“Did you take something in these two days, boy? Have you got anything stashed here?”  
Juice adverts his eyes, looks at Chibs. The shame is back in full force.  
“I’m sorry, Chibs - he croaks, then coughs. His nose started running, and now won’t stop - I had some speed, shoot it up yesterday night the last time. I got nothing else, I swear. Wanna get clean”  
The effort of talking seems to have taken its toll on him: he feels breathless as Chibs readjusts him against his chest and proceeds to reassure him in hushed tones.  
“I’m trusting you - Tig continues - but if you’re lying Im outta here, boy. Won’t help you if you ain’t honest, get it?”  
“I got nothing left - he answers, and he doesn’t even know if he’s talking about the drugs or in general - I swear. If I had, I would tell you. I’m not lying - he looks up at Chibs again - I’m not lying”  
“It’s ok boy, we believe you”  
Chibs smiles down at him, pushing sweat drenched hair out of his forehead, and Tig claps his hands.   
“Well then - he says, getting up and looping an arm around Venus’ middle - looks like we got a lot of work to do: Chibs, help your boy take a shower, will you? He looks like he just finished a marathon, for fuck sake. Then give him some more bread and gatorade and put him in bed. Oh, and Chibs - he finishes fifth a nod towards the bucket - keep that close, God knows he will need it. In the meantime my lovely lady and me will Juiceproof your home. Right?”  
Chibs helps Juice sit up, the kid is slippery and too hot.  
“Lukewarm water is ok? - He asks - he’s burning up”  
“Lukewarm is perfect - Tig nods - now go, he needs to rest”  
“Aye aye, sir”  
“You scottish idiot - Tig snorts - I’m gonna start with removing your cutlery ok? Will stash it somewhere and tell you where, but now go get that shower”

Juice feels dizzy and way too cold as Chibs hoists him up and helps him to reach the bathroom.  
“You ok ti sit on the toilet? - he asks when they get there - not too hard, is it?”  
Juice gets a deep shade of red and nods, sitting on the closed lid. “Fine” he croaks out. His whole body is starting to ache, and he so wants to lie down and disappear, but he knows that it ain’t gonna happen.  
There is some noise echoing in his head, and then Chibs’ hands slid up and down his arms again.  
“Come on, boy., let’s get you in that shower. Do you need help with your clothes?”  
Juice’s head comes up so quickly it backlashes, and he starts fumbling with his t-shirt. When it’s the turn of his trousers, though, he stops and looks at Chibs.  
“Don’t want you to see what they did”  
That nearly kills the scotsman: Chibs holds out one arm for him and Juice lets himself be held.  
“It’s ok, kid - Chibs kisses his head - you got nothing to be ashamed of. Let’s get you out of those clothes, ok? It’s alright”  
Juice nods, but freezes as Chibs unfastens his sweats and lets them fall in a heap on the pavement, hides his face against Chibs’ collarbone as he does the same with his underwear, and Chibs has to stop and breathe, because Juice’s body is a fucking battlefield. He had already seen the damage inflicted on his back and chest, belly and hips, but now he can see his tights too, his legs, and they’re covered in finger shaped bruises and scars, and one looks suspiciously like a bite mark.   
“I will kill those animals - he growls, hands cupping the back of Juice’s head, holding him close - I want them dead, everyone of them. A fucking messy, bloody, slow death. I will fucking kill them all.”  
Juice sniffles and nods.  
“That would be nice. Just let me watch while you do it”  
“Sure kid - the scotsman kisses his head again and takes a step towards the shower, opens the curtain and checks the temperature of the water - you sure you can stand? I can gat in with you if you need”  
Juice shakes his head and gets inside, letting blessed, warm water fall on his head. It feels like someone is using a jackhammer on his brain, but the water feels nice. He braces himself with his hands against the walls and enjoys the water falling on his back.  
“You ok, kid? - Chibs asks - I’m gonna get you some fresh clothes. Mind if I leave for a moment?”  
Juice nods, eyes closed.  
“Go ahead, Chibs - he answers with a bit of an effort - I’ll be ok”  
“I’ll be back in a few seconds”  
And it’s really like that: the door barely closed and Chibs is already back with a pair of sweat pants and a black t-shirt.  
“Gonna be a wee big on you, kid, but you should be comfortable”  
“Thanks - Juice puts some shampoo on his growing hair, rinses them - help me out?”  
Chibs’ arms are ready for him as soon as the water stops falling, the same big, green towel held out: he wraps him in it and smile.  
“Oh, look. An human burrito”  
“Fuck you, man - Juice sniffles - I feel like shit, my nose is running like crazy and I’m gonna puke sooner than later. Might as well do it all over you”  
“Always so nice, kid. Let’s get you in bed, what do you think?”  
Juice sniffles again.  
“You got some tissues?”  
“Tig arredi put them on your nightstand”  
“Jesus Christ - Juice shivers and Chibs tries to rub some warmth in his skin - that man really knows his shit”  
“Aye kid, he does”  
Chibs helps him to his room, literally unwraps him and helps him wear his clothes, mindful of his wounds and bruises: they really are big on him, but at least he looks warm.  
“We should get you checked over, but only after you’ll start feeling better - he adds when he sees Juice shrink away from him - Juicy, you know you’re safe with me, aye?”  
Juice nods, curling up under the covers again.”  
“Can’t help it, Chibs - he answers, eyes on his own hands - sorry”  
“It’s ok, lad, you’ll get there - the scotsman hands push his wet hairs from his forehead - want me to towel your hair?”  
“Uh - Juice looks embarrassed - just if you don’t mind”  
“Come here then”  
Juice slides closer and Chibs puts a dry towel on his head, trying to be as careful as possible not to disturb his growing migraine.  
“Get some sleep, boy - he says when Juice feels dry enough, lying down next to him - I won’t leave”


	8. Be still my love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t understand why the people that shunned him, the same people that feed him to a nazi psycho, are taking care of him. Sure they didn’t expect the abuses (he still can't call it rape, just can’t) but what the hell? And Chibs, fucking Chibs is so nice, and gentle, and caring, and he’s angry because he still feels like he doesn’t deserve it. Now, if this isn’t confusing, what is?

I'll shoulder your pain  
Ride the violent waves as I can  
Bush - Be still my love

“You should try to eat something, Juicy boy”  
Tig is sitting next to him on the bed, Chibs fast asleep on the other side. The man was so tired after watching over him for the whole night that the he dropped as soon as Tig told him to rest. Juice dry heaves in the bucket again, groans and puts it down. He puked everything he had ever eaten in his whole life, or at least he feels like that.  
“No way” He croaks.  
“You really should. At least drink a bit, you’re getting dehydrated.”  
Tig looks at him as he tries to keep down the few sips of gatorade he’s forcing into his stomach, and grimaces sympathetically as Juice throws up a few minutes later.  
“Looks like even this fruity shit is too heavy for your stomach, kid - he says, helping Juice clean up his mouth - sorry”  
Juice nods, letting Tig put a cold compress on his forehead, sitting on the bed with his head tilted backwards against the wall. His breath is so heavy and he feels hot and nauseous.  
“Just another couple of days Juicy, ok? - Tig smoothes his sweaty hair back, and Juice follows his hand with half lidded eyes - then you can start with the meds”  
Juice hums, falls silent again.  
“How’s your head?”  
Juice would shake it, but moving his head means making it worse, and his body already aches so much he’d like nothing more than sleep, at the moment, but even that evades him. So he just opens his eyes and looks at Tig, hoping to convey the message someway.   
“That bad, uh?”  
Yeah, that bad.  
Juice’s eyes fall close again and he sniffles, then grimaces. Even that hurts.  
“Why didn’t you come? - he asks out of the blue - none of you came”  
Tig’s face is the epitome of confusion, he can hear Venus sing in the other room, no doubt cleaning up something as she always does when she’s stressed about something.  
“What do you mean, boy?”  
“When I was doing time - Juice clears his throat, coughs and stops for a few seconds - when I was doing time none of you came”  
Tig is silent, looks solemnly at him.  
“I’m sorry, kid. I thought you didn’t deserve our company”  
“Hm”  
Juice falls silent again, eyes adverted, unfocused, fixed on the turned off tv in front of him. He’s sweating and shivering, his head is killing him and everything hurts, and knows that the cramps are going to hit soon, and so doesn’t want to. He hurts enough already.  
“Did you know I nearly died there? - He croaks, finger tapping the three scars on his collarbone - Tully should have killed me, but missed. I deserved it, you’re right”  
“No, Juice. You didn’t”  
Juice’s eyes move, and now that they found Tig’s he feels scared: there is something desperate in there. Primal.  
“I lied. Got Bobby killed. Chibs said it’s not my fault too - he deadpans - how can it not be?”  
“Ok boy, I want you to listen to me now - Tig slides closer, hand closing around Juice’s bicep without too much pressure, just much needed reassurance - first, you didn’t rat: you were high and blurted it out. Ok? And Jax had no right to ask you to do something like that. I loved the guy, but he’s the one who lied to Nero, not you. He did this to himself, and put it on you. Second: I don’t know what happened to you in there, not in the details, but you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be nearly killed nor to be raped. You listening?”  
Juice looks at him and feels his throat closing: it’s the first time someone used that word, and it physically hurts. He feels his eyes getting wet and looks down, but Tig’s hand keeps his head up, middle finger hooked under his chin. He doesn’t look at him anyway.  
“Wanna know what really pisses me off, Juicy? - He asks - You tried to kill yourself twice. Were you really so alone? Chibs would have listened to you, you know that. Finding you dead would kill him, and no one would feed guard dogs crack anymore. That would be sad”  
Juice’s laugh is watery and weak.  
“Sad indeed - he looks at Chibs, sleeping beside him, and then at Tig again - you know how that worked: i tried to talk to him, but couldn’t tell him the truth. I tried to talk to Bobby, and his advice has been: go to Diosa and let someone suck your cock. Nobody talked to anybody. That’s how all those messes began.”  
“Yep kid, you’re right”  
Tig’s hand brushes his arm and falls around his shoulder, the man kisses his forehead and holds him for a few seconds.  
“You didn’t deserve what happened to you, Juicy boy”  
Juice swallows and nod.  
“Ok”  
“I really believe it, you should believe it too”  
A pause, Juice sniffles.  
“Ok”  
Tig keeps on looking at him for what feels like ages, then uncaps the half liter water bottle he keeps on Juice’s nightstand and puts it against his lips.  
“Head back, boy - he orders, nodding as Juice tilts back his head - just a few sips, try to keep ‘em down”  
Juice does as instructed: the water feels like a blessing on his throat, but a curse in his stomach. He gags and puts one hand on his mouth.  
“Come on, kid. Keep it down - Tig’s hand rubs on his stomach, and it reminds him of childhood and fever and his mother’s smell - keep it down”  
Juice breathes deeply through his nose, hand still pressed against his lips, and closes his eyes. The nausea subsides a bit, but his grip on the bucket is so tight that his fingers are turning white.  
“What’s happening?”  
Chibs’ voice distracts him and he gags again, losing in the bucket all the water he managed to drink.  
“Shit - he spits, breathless - sorry”  
“It’s ok, kid - Tig takes the bottle again - we can try one more time. It’s that old man’s fault, not yours. Don’t disturb the kid while he’s drinking!”  
Chibs looks confused as fuck, looking at Tig’s smirk and Juice’s closed eyes.  
“What?”  
Tig just shakes his head as he puts the bottle against Juice’s lips again, lets him drink a bit and puts it down, then rubs his hand on Juice’s chest.  
“Breathe, boy - he repeats, helping him to keep the bucket close - breathe and keep it down, come on”  
“Is everything alright?”  
Tig just nods, keeping one eye on Juice.  
“Kid gotta drink - he explains - he’s getting dehydrated ‘cause he can’t keep anything down, and this fever his making him sweat a ton. Ain’t fun, but gotta do this”  
Chibs nods, still half asleep, then sits up and gathers Juice in his arms, careful not to jostle him too much, keeping the bucket in reach. Juice just lets himself be swallowed by Chibs’ warmth: he’s freezing, and sweating, and all of his muscles are aching; Chibs puts one hand against his left temple, kisses his right and lets him rest his head on his collarbone.  
“I know it sucks, Juicy, but you need to drink”  
Juice swallows and nods, opening his mouth to talk is too risky.  
“You’ll feel better soon - Chibs holds him, rubbing some warmth in chilled skin and covering him with the comforter - feel like watching a movie? Might distract you a bit”  
Juice opens his eyes and looks at the turned off tv again: the idea of something moving in there, of voices in the room makes him dizzy, so he shakes his head no.  
“Could you read to me some more? - he asks, shyness obvious in his voice, as Tig smiles - if you don’t mind”  
“Aye kid, no problem”  
Tig gets up as Chibs reaches for his book, one arm still holding Juice up, keeping the comforter on his lap.  
“You got him?”  
Tig asks, stretching his back.  
“I got him”  
Tig nods, Fingers brushing Juice’s forehead, and smiles.  
“Call me if you need something, gonna go help my lady clean up”  
Juice nods and thanks him with a small smile, that prompts one of Tig’s biggest grin ever seen. He squeezes the kid shoulder and gets out.  
“So, where were we? - Chibs adjusts his glasses on his nose, looking so much like a grandpa that Juice is instantly amazed - oh, yeah. Our Skinner guy has to discover who is father is, a fucked up cook or Joe Strummer”  
The thing is so absurd that Juice chokes out a laugh.  
“You laugh, boy? - Chibs grins - what if this was you, uh?”  
Juice shakes his head, his stomach is still churning, but the nausea is fading.  
“I know who my dad was. You too”  
“Aye. No Joe Strummer for you, kid. Sorry”  
“I will survive”  
Juice feels a bit more relaxed, closes his eyes and lets his head find the best position on Chibs’ shoulder: he can feel the scotsman’s fingers in his hair, and the rumble of his chest as he reads to him about the conversation about this Skinner guy and his mother. Chibs even makes the woman’s voice feminine and, Juice doesn’t know why, but this fucking moves him to goddamned tears.  
“Thanks, Chibs” He manages, and doesn’t know if Chibs really doesn’t see him cry or if he pretends not to. The scotsman nods, looks down at him and removes his glasses.  
“It’s ok, boy. You alright?”  
Juice thinks about it: his nose is runny as fuck, his head is exploding, he’s dizzy and nauseous and pain is driving him crazy. Good.  
“You got any second question? - he sniffles - because this one sucked”  
Chibs laughs.  
“You’re right, sorry”  
Juice shrugs.  
“Wanna try and drink some more? You did good before”  
Juice is tempted to say no, but he knows he has to. It’s just that he already feels like shit, and can’t really take more pain. Must have thought out loud, because Chibs’ grip tightens around him.  
“I know, Juicy boy - he says - gotta resist a bit more, the we can start with the meds and I’m sure you’ll feel better”  
Juice feels like crying when Chibs puts the water bottle against his lips and helps him drink. He’s just so fucking tired.  
“Ok, that’s enough - the bottle is on the nightstand again, and there is one hand on his back and one on his chest - now breathe, Juice, and keep it down. Come on”  
He closes his eyes, keeps the bucket close and breathe through his nose. It sucks. His stomach is doing somersaults down there, and he just had a few sips of water.  
And suddenly he’s angry, so fucking angry. He thumps his head against the wall once, hard. Would have done that twice, even harder, if Chibs’ hand wouldn’t have gotten in the way.  
“Juice, what was that?”  
Juice growls, looking at him, and forgets even the nausea, the pain ,the fever. There is just rage: pure, unadulterated fury: he tries to get up, but Chibs holds him down.  
“Juice, calm down - the scottish drawl pierces his angry haze - you’re gonna hurt yourself”  
And then it downs on him: it’s not just anger, it’s confusion. He doesn’t understand why the people that shunned him, the same people that feed him to a nazi psycho, are taking care of him. Sure they didn’t expect the abuses (he still can't call it rape, just can’t) but what the hell? And Chibs, fucking Chibs is so nice, and gentle, and caring, and he’s angry because he still feels like he doesn’t deserve it. Now, if this isn’t confusing, what is?  
“Calm down, Juicy - he hears - punch me if you need it, but don't hurt yourself, please. Not yourself. Stop that”  
Juice sags back into Chibs’ arms and gets totally unresponsive: he needs answers, and he needs them right now or he’s gonna get even crazier. Chibs holds him close, hands brushing his shoulders, chest against his back and arms crossed across his chest. It’s both scary and reassuring, and his nausea hits him again in full force: he has just the time to take the bucket before puking everything, but Chibs just keeps on holding him after he’s done, head tilted back on the scotsman’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the ceiling.  
“Talk to me, kid”  
Juice has to think about it. Does he really want to know? He sure needs it, but does he wants to? Well, looks like his mouth decides for his brain.  
“I’m so angry, Chibs - he spits out - and tired, and confused”  
Chibs nods, hairs tickling his cheek.  
“How can I help?”  
That’s the right question and it strikes him like a damned punch, he feels tears fight to come out again but stops them, grabbing a tissue for his runny nose.  
“Have i ever been enough? - he asks before he can stop himself - I need to know. Have I ever been enough?”  
Chibs is silent for a long while, sadness falling over him like pitch.  
“Aye, you were. Be we were too stupid to see it”  
Juice nods and his knees come up against his chest as he braces himself for the cramps he feels coming, shakes his head and coughs. Chibs cocoons him in his arms when the cramps hit and he’s reduced to a screaming mess, actual tears of pain streaming from his eyes. He can barely hear Chibs’ voice speaking in hushed tones over the rush of his own blood in his ears his heart is beating like crazy. It’s gonna explode, and he’ll die like that, he knows he will, and shit it hurts so much…  
Venus appears in his line fo vision, hands flying to her mouth as she hurries to them, helping Chibs to keep him still.  
“It’s gonna be ok, sweetheart - she murmurs in his ear, and he’s grateful because she manages to overcome his heart’s noise for a few seconds - it will be ok, you’ll be fine.”  
“Where’s Tig?” Chibs asks, and his voice sounds far and distorted.  
“Sleeping, he was so tired”  
He feels Chibs nod, then another wave of pain hits him and her fells his legs muscles knots. He screams again, harder, longer and hoarser, and there are hands on his calves trying to massage the pain away.  
“Shh, boy - there are actual tears in Chibs’ voice, and he feels like shit for putting them there - shh. It will pass”  
“I’m so sorry - he sobs - I’m sorry”  
Chibs keeps him even closer, giving him some warmth, while Venus massages his legs and his hands. But his stomach is killing him, it feels like a massive ball of pain and nausea, and it isn’t stopping, it can’t stop, will never stop. He wants it to. Wants it to stop.  
“Make it stop, Chibs - he manages - make it stop. Please, make it stop”  
His voice vanishes in his throat and a new stab of pain turns him into a knot of limbs and sweat, but he’s got no force to scream anymore, so he just whimpers against Chibs’ shirt and starts shaking, sobs so hard to choke him, teeth chattering.  
“Come on, kid - Chibs repeats - come on”  
Juice feels hands on his legs and hands on his belly, massaging and holding him down, and it’s nearly enough to send him in a spiral of panic if not for Chibs’ voice that keeps on reminding him that he’s safe, there is nothing to be afraid of, he’s safe. Then, darkness.

—

When he wakes up, it’s with Tully’s face still burned in his retinas, and he can’t stand to be touched. He can’t be touched. Just venus manages to coax him up, wraps him in her arms and rocks him as he sobs again, vivid memories of pain and hands and breath stolen from him with every thrust, every fucking thrust. Chibs and Tig look at them, red eyed and angry, desperate to help but unable to do so, and scared that this might be a step back for Juice, back to when he had just gotten out of jail and wouldn’t let anyone touch him. It’s so strange to think that it was just a few days before.   
Venus shushes him when he starts asking for help, tells him he’s safe, and then something happens and Chibs hears his own name called with a desperation that prompts him to run to the kid, ask Venus for permission and watch as she disentangles herself, takes Juice’s face in her hands and makes him turn towards Chibs.  
“He’s here, sweetheart - she murmurs - he’s here, you’re safe”  
Juice literally jumps from her arms to Chibs’s and grips the older man’ shirt with nearly inhuman strength.  
“I called for you every day - he sobs - but you wouldn’t come. Calle you every time, they called me your bitch. Taunted me.”  
He keeps on rambling, and Chibs knows that it’s just because he’s delirious with pain and fever that he’s telling him this, no way he would have confessed such a thing otherwise. Venus’ eyes are suspiciously shiny, and Tig gets out with a growl, Chibs hears some noise from the kitchen, and Venus promptly runs to her man, kissing Juice’s cheek.  
“You’re a good man, Filip Telford”  
She says, and Chibs thinks that it’s the second time that he heard that from the couple, and that he can’t believe it, just can’t, because if he really were Juice wouldn’t be in piece: he would be whole, and his smile would shine like the fucking sun, and instead he’s crying, and his smiles are gone and he feels so guilty, so fucking guilty that all he’s able to do is squeeze Juice hard in his arms and cry with him and beg the kid for absolution. He’s sorry for not having been there, he’s sorry, so sorry.

The noises from the kitchen stop, and Juice looks calmer now, still jittery but much less scared. He sniffles and crawls on Chibs’ lap, head on his shoulder and legs tangled with the scotsman’s.  
“Sorry, Chibs - he whispers - didn’t mean to make you cry”  
“Not you fault, Juice - Chibs kisses his head, he’s doing it so often - it’s mine. All mine”  
Juice shakes his head.  
“Nah, man. Leave me my fair share”  
Chibs sobs again and keeps Juice’s head close with one hand, the other is squeezing the life out of the comforter.  
“I’m sorry, Juice. I’m so sorry. I could have saved you but my head was so up my ass that…I had given up on you, kid. Will you ever forgive me?”  
It hurts, but Juice already knew.  
“Deserved it - he replies, shaking from the cold - you’re already forgiven”  
“Thank you”  
Chibs says, and it’s sacred, as if he was talking to God instead than to a man whose faith was destroyed at other men’s hands. Juice coughs and keeps silent.  
“You didn’t deserve that, Juice - Chibs keeps on - how do you feel?”  
“Cold - he says - freezing- Head hurts, can’t really breathe”  
“Ok, ok - Chibs covers him again, keeping him close and warm - close your eyes and try to sleep, ok? I’ll be here. Every time you’ll call for me, I’ll be there. It’s a promise”  
Juice’s eyes are huge as he looks at him, then he adverts them and starts biting his bottom lip again. It’s an habit that Chibs is starting to find endearing.  
“Thanks” His boy whispers, then closes his eyes.


	9. Gimme danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He feels lips on his forehead.  
> “Tha gaol agam ort”  
> Another kiss.  
> “Tha gaol agam ort. Don’t die, kid. I love you, don’t die”

There's nothing in my dreams   
but some ugly memories

Stooges - Gimme Danger

Waking up is the worst thing that ever happened to him: it’s still dark outside, so he must have slept no more than a couple of hours. Chibs is still sleeping next to him, hand fastened on his sweats, and he tries to not wake him up as he drowns fucking painful cramps in a whimper, face buried in the pillow, and jumps out of his skin when he feels someone touching his neck.  
“It’s me, Juicy boy - he hears Tig’s voice - is this ok?”  
Juice whimpers again but doesn’t try to get away, so Tig keeps his hand there, feeling the heat creeping through his skin.  
“What hurts, kid?”  
Everything, he would like to say, but all he manages is a   
“Oh, God”  
mixed with a raw sob.  
“I know, I know, - Tig slides his hands on his back, massaging the spasming muscles - it sucks kid, I know”  
Juice nods, fingers opening and closing on the bed sheets, silent sobs chocking him.  
“Shh - Tig helps him put his head on his jeans, carding his fingers through sweaty black hair - resist, kid. Where does it hurt the most?”  
Juice’s arms snake around Tig’s knees and he starts shaking, teeth chattering again, sweat drenching the other man’s jeans.  
“Dunno - he stammers - I don’t know”   
Tig nods and keeps on caressing his hair, rubbing his back and his fingers, one by one. Drenches a towel in cold water and tries to cool him down, helps him with tissues for his runny nose.  
“Just a few more hours, kid - he repeats - just a few more hours.”  
Juice isn’t even listening anymore: every shiver wakes a new kind of pain, every spasm a new wave of cramps, every smell makes him nauseous, the light from the digital alarm clock kills his head, makes his eyes hurt.  
He’s drooling, and it’s fucking embarrassing, and he’s pretty sure he pissed the bed because Tig just woke Chibs up to help him het him to the bathroom and into a shower, and he’s not sure about it, but he thinks that the arms that keep him upright under the water belong to the scotsman, and it’s him that hugs him, shushes him with soft words as he cries and repeats again and again that he’s sorry, he’s ashamed, he’s scared and they should let him die.  
It’s the first time since Darvany, the chain and Tully that he really wants to die again. Because, what’s the point? He’s a fuck up, he’s bloody poison.  
“No, Juicy boy. You ain’t - Chibs helps him clean himself - you ain’t. We love you. I love you.”  
He feels lips on his forehead.  
“Tha gaol agam ort”  
Another kiss.  
“Tha gaol agam ort. Don’t die, kid. I love you, don’t die”  
Juice knows what Chibs is saying, likes the tone and trusts the man, so he lets himself be surrounded by Chibs’ arms, feeling safe for the first time in ages, even stark naked like that. And it’s absurd, because he feels so bad, and he wants to die, but he wants to live too, now, an it makes no fucking sense.  
The water stops and he’s freezing again, cold and wet, and he clings to Chibs with the force of desperation as Tig wraps him in a towel and helps the scot get him to the sofa. Must have really soiled the bed, then. Tig and Chibs make him wear fresh clothes and he starts crying again, he ashamed, and sorry, and feels like a burden. Knows he’s a burden. He’s still crying when Chibs and Tig lie him down, Chibs holding him in his arms and letting him rest against his chest, Tig forcing him to drink again, some red gatorade that tastes like piss, and Venus dries his hair softly with a white towel, humming some song that he’s sure he knows but can’t really put his finger on. Venus cured nails scrape lightly on his skin, circle the needle marks where he used to shoot up speed and heroin just until a few days ago. Chibs takes one of his hands and starts massaging his fingers, one by one, and Tig’s hand is on his belly again, the man’s voice praying him to keep “that fruity shit down”.  
He falls back against Chibs, head tilted up against one warm shoulder, and says it again.  
“Sorry for the bed. Sorry for everything”  
“It’s ok, kid - Tig’s voice says - keep it down. Breathe and keep it down”  
“I don’t deserve you, none of you”  
“Shh, boy. You do. Tha gaol agam ort, I told you. We all do”  
Juice curled on his side, back against the sofa and hands tangled in Chibs’ black shirt.  
“Love you too - he nods - all”  
Venus smiles, but it’s Tig’s voice he hears again.  
“You’re so cute when you feel like shit”  
Juice snorts, which prompts a cough, which prompts a new wave of pain and nausea to wash over him for what feels like ages. When he’s done Tig is holding him, chest to chest, big hand in his short hair.  
“Breathe, Juice - he repeats - breathe and stay with us. You’re ok. You’re ok”  
He feels himself being lowered down in Chibs’ harms again, and can’t really breathe properly. It’s like one of those asthma attacks he’s had since he was a kid, and it fucking hurts until he straightens his back and he feels hair flowing more easily until a new wave of crams hits again and he starts trashing as Tig and Chibs are forced to hold him down to stop him from hurting himself, Venus’ hands on his cheeks and Chibs voice sounding him, reminding him that he’s safe, they love him, he loves him, he’s safe. He’s not strong enough to scream to scream anymore, he just cries silently, tears wetting Chibs’ sofa, and endures.


	10. Be still and know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, boy. Open your mouth”  
> There is a thumb on his bottom lip and Juice can’t really understand what’s going on: he feels something being pushed against his mouth and opens it, and there is a quick flash that makes him realize that he really must trust these people with his life if he lets it happen without even opening his eyes. It’s a pill, he swallows it. There are whispers, some water to keep down again and then he opens his eyes and another pill appears.

And the sun will rise  
Dawn will break through the blackest night  
Distant in its glow  
This shall pass be still and know

Machine Head - Be still and know

 

“Come on, boy. Open your mouth”  
There is a thumb on his bottom lip and Juice can’t really understand what’s going on: he feels something being pushed against his mouth and opens it, and there is a quick flash that makes him realize that he really must trust these people with his life if he lets it happen without even opening his eyes. It’s a pill, he swallows it. There are whispers, some water to keep down again and then he opens his eyes and another pill appears.   
“Open up, kid”  
It’s Tig’s voice.  
“Keep it under your tongue, let it dissolve”  
He does as instructed and he most foul taste he’s ever had the displeasure to meet assaults him: he jerks up, limbs spasming to get a hold of his faithful bucket, but Tig’s hands push him down again.  
“No boy, come on, let it work”  
Venus smiles at him, sitting on the floor at eye level, and Chibs’ hand is clamped on his mouth, the other is massaging his throat.  
“Twenty minutes, then another”  
Oh fuck no. No.  
Juice’s eyes are full of tears, Chibs’ hand is still keeping his mouth shut. He breathes through his stuffy nose and tries to tell him that his hand is scaring him, reminding him of rape - shit, did he just call it rape? Did he, really? - with huge eyes.  
“Juice, it’s me - the scottish drawl reaches his ears - it’s me. Don’t be afraid of me boy, please”  
He’s pleading again, and Juice is sobbing under his palm, hand going up to fasten on the older man’s shirt. He nods, then shakes his head and feels his whole body tremble, his legs trashing and Tig’s hand pushing down on them. And he can’t stop it, can’t. His hands squeeze Chibs’ wrist with a strength given by panic, and Chibs’ eyes look down at them.  
“Don’t puke kid, you gotta resist. Ok?”  
He nods, frantic, and Chibs’ hand leaves his mouth. He gulps in air, sobbing. He was so scared, so fucking scared.  
“Please don’t do it again - he pleads - I won’t puke. Don’t do that again, Chibs. Please”  
“Ok lad, ok - Chibs’ voice sounds strange - but you gotta keep it down, ok? I’m sorry Juice, I didn’t want to scare you. I’m sorry. Come here, I’m sorry”  
He feels himself being hoisted up, a glass of water helps him wash his mouth from that shitty taste but doesn’t help with his nausea, and then Chibs holds him from behind, chin on his shoulder, and manages to calm him down just with his voice and hands rubbing lightly on his biceps.  
“Tha gaol agam ort, kid. Remember?”  
Juice nods, sags back against Chibs’ chest.  
“Tha mi cuideachd’ a”  
“Holy fuck, you little shit! - Chibs laughs - that was gaelic! When did you pick it up?”  
“Listened to you, liked the sound - Juice coughs - gotta couple of books, I’m good with languages. Pronounce is a bitch, though”  
“Aye lad, it is”  
Chibs smiles, kissing his scalp.  
“So wait - Tig asks - when you said to Clay that you didn’t speak spanish…”  
“I lied - Juice coughs again, wasn’t that shit supposed to work magic? He feels even worst - didn’t want him to make me translate everything from that moment on”  
Venus starts laughing so hard that her head falls back on Tig’s chest.  
“You’re full of surprises, sweetheart - she grins - you really are”  
“Tell us something in spanish, Juicy -Tig asks as Juice goes red, embarrassed - but first, this”  
He holds up the second pill, and Juice shivers. Opens his mouth anyway, big eyes fixed on Chibs, and lets Tig put it under his tongue. He feels like puking all over again, grimaces and turns his head, hiding his face against Chibs’ shoulder. There is one hand in his air almost immediately.  
“Voy a vomitar - he says, voice hoarse - Dios, voy a vomitar. Es una mierda, Chibs”  
The scot doesn’t get a word, but is fucking impressed. Here he is: an hacker that can speak three languages, and they didn’t even know. If possible, he feels even guiltier. The meaning is clear even if the words aren’t, anyway.  
“I know, Juicy, it sucks - he rubs one hand on Juice’s arm again, the other sits on his fevered forehead - resist, kid. Just a couple of hours and you’ll feel better”  
“You speak any other language?”  
Tig’s eyes are round and full of wonder, he looks like a kid in front of a fake Santa Claus. Juice shrugs, eyes still closed and sweat on his brow as Chibs makes him drink again. These are gonna be the worst two hours of his whole life. He’s grateful for the question, it’s distracting him from the fucking pill under his tongue.  
“Just some portuguese - he mutters - isso è uma merda”  
“Holy fuck! - Tig laughs, hands in his hairs - you’re awesome, kid! What did you say?”  
“This sucks - Juice answers - I said that this sucks”  
Chibs’ chin rubs his cheek, and the image of a grumpy cat flashes in his mind. He loves cats.  
“Can I get a cat when I’m better?”  
“Uh? - Chibs’ tone is confused by the sudden change of topic - a cat kid? Why not? How would you call it?”  
Juice’s mouth stirs in a faint smile.  
“Chibs”  
Tig starts laughing again, and Venus follows him.  
“Shit kid, this is too good! - he barks - a black and gray cat, grumpy as fuck, called Chibs!”  
Chibs growls something behind him, but sounds amused and even a bit touched as he says:  
“As you wish, boy”  
kissing his head again.  
“A siberian one, or a nors skogkatt - Venus suggests - you look a bit like a nors skogkatt, Chibs”  
“I look a bit like a what?”  
Juice would have snorted again if Tig’s hadn’t chosen that moment to give him the third pill: he groans and greets his teeth, but the shaking lessened, and he’s feeling a bit less cold and so maybe, maybe, that shit really works. Still tastes like something awful, anyway, and he really feels like puking again. Chibs’ hands fall on his belly and rub.  
“You’re too thin, kid - he says, trying to distract him - gotta put some meat on your bones”  
“Don’t talk to me about food - Juice grunts - not now”  
“Ok kid, ok - Chibs’ chin is on his shoulder again - come on, the worst is nearly passed. Just a wee more time and you’ll feel better. Just a bit”  
Chibs crosses his arms on Juice’s chest and keeps him still and warm, doesn’t rock him, fearing to prompt another attack of nausea, and just cuddles him.  
Ha.  
If someone would have told him that he would be cuddling the kid just a couple of months before he would have decked them, but now it’s totally natural, he needs to do that. Juice needs someone to be there for him, and he wants to be the one that will take care of him, it’s his way to repay the kid. He feels responsible, knows that he really is. He could have saved him, he could have stopped all that mess from happening, but he didn’t.   
“Chibs - he hears - I can hear you thinking from here”  
Juice’s voice is weak, but he’s looking bit better, just a bit maybe. Less white, more of the right color.  
“You saved me - he goes on - you saved me, Chibs. I’m alive because of you and Tig and Venus. I’m alive, Chibs”  
“I know, kid - Chibs has to swallow a sob. They went so close to lose him, too close - I know. I see you. Chi mi thu”  
“Hm - Juice shakes his head lightly, eyes closed and a forced smile on his lips - I’m not sure I understood that”  
“Then try to translate for me, kid - Chibs nods at Tig, taking the pill from the man’s hand - open up and translate for me, ok? Don’t think about this pill, just try to understand what I’m saying. ok?”  
“Ok - Juice opens his mouth and lets Chibs put that thing under his tongue. Grimaces - Shit man, this sucks”  
“Tha fias agam go math”  
Juice is silent for a while, nausea arising again, then nods.  
“I bet you know”  
“What did he say?”  
Tig’s eyes are round as fucking pans.  
“He said that he knows that well enough”  
Tig laughs and claps his hands, circling Venus’ middle with an arm.  
“You really are good with languages, Juicy boy!”  
Chibs’ face looks proud, Juice notices. It makes him feel a bit better.  
“Now I want you to listen to me, Juice, and to pay attention. Ok? - he asks, waiting until Juice gives him a tiny nod, hands still on his abdomen - I won’t speak gaelic, ‘cause otherwise this guy over here would keep on asking you to translate and I want you to concentrate”  
Tig snorts, but Juice nods again, totally taken and scared. The fuck is going on there?  
“I want you to know that, if you want, you still got a place at the table. We’ll take a vote and decide, but I think that that place is yours - Chibs shakes his head and puts a finger on Juice’s lips when he sees him open his mouth - lemme finish, boy”  
Juice nods again, brown eyes huge and fixed on him.  
“Open up, kid”   
Tig makes him drink some water, then Chibs feeds him another pill. It will never stop making him shiver, that taste.  
“I want you to know that I’m sorry, and that I let you down - Chibs gathers him in his arms again, chest against his back - I want you to know that you’re not alone, and that I won’t let anyone hurt you again. You hear me, Juice?”  
“Fuck you, Chibs - Juice’s voice is nothing but a whisper, sounds like sandpaper, and he’s scared for a moment - fuck you. Shit, fuck you”  
Juice is screaming now, and crying. He springs up and uses his knees to support his elbows, buries his face in his hands and his eyes against his fists.   
“Fuck you for leaving me alone without letting me explain, for letting Jax and Tully do what they did to me. Fuck you, Chibs!”  
Tig and Venus look paralyzed, but it’s Chibs the one that takes it in the worst way, until Juice turns around, red eyed and trembling, and fastens his hands on the man’s shirt.  
“Fuck you for saying what I needed to hear, man - he sobs - fuck for not saying it before. I tried to hate you. I tried. When you came to collect me when I got out of jail I tried to hate you. You scared the shit out of me, Chibs. I thought you were there to kill me, and I was fucking fine with that, because it was you. If I had to die at the hands of the club at least I would have known that it was you!”  
Juice’s head falls on Chibs’ chest. The scotsman feels frozen, eyes fixed on the head of thick black hair in front of him, hands still up in the air.   
“I would have been happy to die at your hands, Chibs - Juice sobs - I knew I could have trusted you to make it quick. For real this time. I deserved at least that, didn’t I?”  
Chibs’ hands fall on Juice’s hunched back, but don’t move.  
“And you fucking saved me, again and again, and I don’t deserve it Chibs, I don’t!”  
It’s a fucking explosion, a freaking H bomb going off, and Juice’ sobs are so hard that Venus fears an asthma attack.  
“I don’t understand - he cries - I don’t understand, Chibs. Please, help me understand. Please”  
Chibs’ head falls back on the armrest: Juice’s health might even be improving, but his head is still a mess. He’s been used, nearly killed and saved, and he doesn’t know what to do with these pieces of information. They just don’t match. So, Chibs has to make them.  
“Juice - he whispers, kissing the kid’s hair - Juicy boy, listen to me. We love you. I love you”  
Juice just shakes his head, face still hidden in Chibs’ now wet shirt.  
“Hey boy, hey - the scotsman arms are around his back, now - listen to me. Listen. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, and you deserved to be saved much more earlier than I did, Juice. We made a mistake, a fucking huge mistake, and you paid for it. And I know it won’t make you feel better, it won’t solve a thing, but I would give my life to go back and stop it from happening. If i could I would. But I can’t, boy, I can’t. Come on now, head up”  
Chibs hooks one finger under Juice’s chin, makes him drink a bit and shows him another pill. Juice’s eyes are puffy and red as he opens his mouth and makes a face.  
“I can’t go back, Juice - Chibs lets him put his head on his chest again, feels him groan at the taste and rising nausea - and I’ll have to live with the knowledge that I hurt you so fucking bad, and that you’ll have to live with what happened to you. I don’t know what to do to make this better, boy. What can I do?”  
Chibs looks at Tig, but the man’s eyes are adverted on his own hands, head down. Juice just shivers and keeps silent.  
“I don’t know what to do, lad - Chibs sighs - but I want you to know that I’m sorry and I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. Ok?”  
Juice’s nod is faint, but it’s there.  
“I have already forgiven you. Already told you”  
“Aye boy - Chibs bites his lips - but I still haven’t forgiven myself”  
The scotsman’s arms keep Juice closer.  
“You’re strong, kid. You’re the only one that still has a kind of moral, here. You know what’s wrong and what’s right, and forcing you to kill that girl destroyed you, and I’m so sorry Jax made you do that”  
“I’m a coward - Juice shakes his head - I’m a coward, you told me when you found me under that tree, and you were right”  
Tig’s eyes get confused, Chibs mouths that he’ll explain later.  
“I didn’t want you to die, Juice - he says, rubbing some warmth in chilled arms - couldn’t let you die. You’re strong, kid, and I’m proud of you”  
Juice’s breath itches and then the kid is sobbing in his arms, all long limbs and fevered skin, hands squeezing the life out of his shirt. And he’s relieved to have him back, so happy to still have him there, alive and breathing, that a watery laugh escapes him when he hears Juice’s broken voice say:  
“Still calling my cat Chibs, Chibs”.


	11. High Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tig’s answer never comes: Juice’s eyes open and he looks up at Chibs.  
> “You done with the guilty fest? - he asks - trying to sleep, here”  
> Tig snorts as Chibs’ hand finds its place on Juice’s forehead, lips kissing his scalp.  
> “Aye, kid. Sorry. Love you. Sleep”  
> “Tha gaol agam ort, scottish bastard”

The grass was greener  
The light was brighter  
When friends surrounded  
The nights of wonder

Pink Floyd - High Hopes

 

“You sure that shit worked? - Chibs’ hand is carding though Juice’s hair, the kid still asleep on his chest - he still looks like shit”  
“It worked, prez. Kid’s sleeping alright, no shaking nor fever”  
The VP hand is tangled in Venus’ hair, keeping her sleeping form upright against his own chest. Looks like a free hug party.  
“You don’t look too convinced”  
“Ain’t that. It’s just…what now? - Chibs looks concerned - what do we do, now? You saw how he feels. How do we convince him that he’s safe, we love him and… - Chibs shakes his head, eyes downcast - I don’t know what to do, man. I’m not good at this”  
“Like hell you ain’t”  
Tig’s eyes are drilling a hole in his head. He looks royally pissed.  
“You saved him, right now. You heard the kid, right? You fucking saved him. He trusts you with his life, we gotta work with that”  
“Aye, sure. But I ain’t no professional, man - Chibs’ hands are starting to shake, and he stops them crossing his arms around Juice’s shoulders, hands on his biceps - I hate to admit this, but it scares the fuck out of me. What if I fuck this up? Kid’s already broken, can’t risk making him worse”  
“Chibs, we’ll do our best ok? - Tig is reassuring him and it’s so weird, it feels surreal - we owe him. You won’t be alone in this, we’ll work together and we’ll see if he wants to talk to someone, ok? I don’t think he will, but we will see”  
Chibs nods, Juice’s weight both a blessing and the incarnation of his worst fears. He’s so happy to have him there, alive and getting better, albeit slowly, but the kid is the symbol of his errors. Of the whole club’s errors, actually. No one speaks, no one asks for help when it’s needed. Fuck that, it nearly killed the kid thrice. He’d prefer walk around with a Barbie’s dress than letting it all happen again if he has to choose, and he bloody doesn’t care if this new way of thinking will make him less “manly”.  
“We need to talk with the guys - he clears his voice, fingers drawing circles on Juice’ skin - the whole club. Cant’ let this shit repeat itself”  
Tig nods, fingers playing with the fraying fabric of Chibs’ sofa: he knows what his prez means. They play family, but can’t really help each other if they don’t even know how to listen when a brother needs help, can they? Sure, they won’t become a fucking bunch of shrinks, but they weren’t there for a kid that felt alone enough to prefer hanging himself than try to come clean to them. They made him feel inadequate enough to go and try to kill himself twice, and nearly letting Tully take his life. How can they keep on calling themselves a family, brothers? Shit, they can’t. Right?  
“I’m with you, prez - he answers - but I think you already know”  
Chibs just nods, teeth torturing the nail of his index finger.  
“Thanks, man”  
“No need - Tig snorts - this thing can’t happen again, you’re right. It started because the kid has a black dad, can you believe it?”  
“He thought we’d throw him out”  
“We’d never”  
“Aye, but he did’t know - Chibs looks down at Juice, his boy - he never thought of himself as important because we always made him feel like he wasn’t. Never told him we really cared for him, and when we tried it was already too late”  
He remembers doing that, trying to make the kid talk in the clubhouse’s bathroom. He remembers the kid’s break down, his tears on his cut. He remembers seeing him walk through a landmine without a second thought, he remembers him jumping from a police bike inside a riding van, he remembers his silences and his too many bottles of beers at the club’s parties. He remembers his face when he told him that, as far as the club was concerned, he never even existed. He had looked broken, like someone who has seen his last anchor disappear. He turned to steel then, and he nearly felt proud of him. He’s ashamed, now. He felt he didn’t dig enough then, and knows he didn’t even try hard enough now.   
Tig’s answer never comes: Juice’s eyes open and he looks up at Chibs.  
“You done with the guilty fest? - he asks - trying to sleep, here”  
Tig snorts as Chibs’ hand finds its place on Juice’s forehead, lips kissing his scalp.  
“Aye, kid. Sorry. Love you. Sleep”  
“Tha gaol agam ort, scottish bastard”  
“Sleep, little shit - Chibs smiles - sleep. We’ll shut up”  
He doesn’t say all that he would like to say, but feels like it’s not needed. He doesn’t tell him that he’s safe, he’ll take care of him, he’ll never let anyone or anything hurt him again, he’ll never leave him alone again, he’ll never have to prove himself to them, because he knows his worth. Has always known. He hopes the kid knows, and keeps him even closer.


	12. Victory over the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not calling it Chibs”  
> He hears the scotsman say.  
> “Sure I am, man - he smiles again, cradling the kitten against his chest, and it finally, finally reaches his eyes - looks just like you!”

I can only make you see the moon,  
You can touch it but that's up to you  
This is happening because of you  
Stay special brother you stay true

Biffy Clyro - Victory over the sun

Things go better from that same evening, even if it’s slow, baby steps stuff. Juice is even a bit hungry and manages to keep down some pain bread that his newfound family is more than happy to provide. Seeing him eat is worthy everything they, and he, had to go through in the last days, and Tig is afraid that the smile that chibs is sporting on his face will finish to split his cheeks in two but hey, who is he to stop a man from being happy?  
“Feel better, sweetheart? Meds working? - Venus crouches down next to Juice’s form, still huddled on the sofa - are you still in pain?”  
Juice smiles and shakes his head.  
“Nah, I feel better”  
“Wanna take a shower? You stink, kid”  
Juice looks pensive and gazes up at Chibs, but then nods.  
“Yeah, I feel all kinds of gross”  
“Go on, then - Venus smiles, getting up - I’ll find you some clean clothes”  
“You’re an angel, Venus”  
Juice smiles, straining a bit as he puts down his feet: he feels better, really, but he’s still weak. Chibs’ hands are on his hips immediately, offering support.  
“Careful, kid - he mutters, looking down at his hands - don’t want to have to clean your brain from the tiles”  
“Thanks, man”   
Juice yearns for contact, needs the contact, but is still too scared to actually ask for it. So he just hooks a finger in Chibs’ shirt and looks down, biting the inside of his left cheek.  
“I’m glad you’re here, kid - Chibs’ hand cups his head, eyes searching for Juice’s dark ones, then he kisses his forehead - I’m glad you’re here”  
Juice knows what he means: I’m glad you didn’t die with that chain around your neck, I’m glad you didn’t die at Diosa, I’m glad you didn’t die in jail, I’m glad you didn’t decide to die when I was keeping you upright in that shower. I’m glad you’re alive. He nods, still feeling a bit dizzy, and sways muttering something about being sweaty and gross as Chibs puts his arms around him and lets him rest against his chest, keeping Juice’s head on his shoulder with one big hand.  
“Aye, kid. You’re sweaty, and you stink, and I don’t care. Now come on, let’s get you in that shower”

—

It’s not easy, but Juice is getting there, he knows. He still doesn’t want to be touched by most people and only Tig, Chibs and Venus got an all area free pass. Doesn’t let anyone see his scars, now he always wears a t-shirt when he hits the gym. He still hasn’t rejoined the club, but he’s thinking about it now that it looks like it really has gone legit. Rides his bike, often alone or just with Tig and Chibs, sometimes he joins the club in some rides around town. Someone tried to hug him without warning him first and got a black eye and a lot of excuses, so now they know that they need to be careful around him.   
He tries to stop that, to stop his nervousness and fear, but it’s so difficult thats sometimes he just feels like giving up. His nightmares drive him crazy, and more often than not Chibs spends the night in his room, fingers carding through black hair that are getting longer and longer, arms around his shaking form, trying to calm his panicked breath and wildly beating hearth with hushed words and long hugs. They still share Chibs’ place, the scot doesn’t want him to be alone, and he’s grateful for that. A lot.  
So, they’re together when Venus and Tig knock on the door with a small bundle in the VP hands. Tig hands it over to Juice with a wicked grin and the thing moves, makes a tiny sound, and then a small gray head emerges from the fabric.  
“Oh my…you gotta be kidding!”  
Chibs’ exclamation is suffocated by Juice’s laugh, the very first real one he shares with them since he got out, and Tig’s heart loses a beat at the idea of having put that smile on the kid’s face. Juice brings the tiny gray cat at eye level, and touches his little black nose with a finger.  
“You’re not calling it Chibs”  
He hears the scotsman say.  
“Sure I am, man - he smiles again, cradling the kitten against his chest, and it finally, finally reaches his eyes - looks just like you!”

\---

Sooooooo let me know. This is the end, or should I write some more about mental issues and the relationship Juice and Chibs could develop? And I don't even know which kind of relationship I'm talking about, mind you.   
Argh, my mind is a mess.


End file.
